Science and Madness
by The Blight
Summary: In their pursuit of knowledge and power, defectors from Zurrernorn try summoning something directly from the realm of the gods. However, what they pull from the other side is completely unexpected. Away from home and disoriented, a madman finds that when the world is filled impossibly powerful beings, science is his only ally.
1. Rude Awakening

**Greetings, this fan fiction uses the same concept as another work of mine where someone with vast scientific knowledge ends up in the new world. However, unlike in "A Chemist in King Ainz's Court", the scientist is a powerless human who was summoned directly from earth, and thus will not have friendly ties to Nazarick, it should hopefully be a little more interesting that way.**

* * *

Deep underground between oppressive stone walls, several shrouded figures stood around a chalked circle, surrounded by candles and marked with blood. Their voices were hushed but filled with importance as they chanted forbidden words from long forgotten languages.

A black cowl turned its head. "Disciple Aamon, it's almost midnight, the time is right."

Aamon was tall and spindly, like someone who had gone through a ritual to turn themselves into a skeleton but stopped halfway. Under his hood was a face that had long since succumbed to age, but his amber eyes were clear and filled with a cold intelligence. He tapped his staff on the stone floor to silence the chanting. He addressed the other hooded figures around the circle.

"My brothers, who are we?"

They responded in unanimous litany. "We are harbingers of apocrypha, the postulants of power, the orphaned of Zuranon"

"And what is our goal?"

"To peer into the abyss of magic."

"And how will we capture the fish of knowledge?"

"Our magic is our seine, and the heavens are our sea."

"And are we prepared to capture the knowledge of the gods?"

"To slay the very stars themselves."

Aamon tapped his staff on the ground once and spread his hands.

"Every 100 years on the first of the Upper Wind month, the boundary between worlds is weakened and the gods descend to walk among us. We will use the chance when the boundary is weak, cast our net into the heavens and pull forth the secrets of the abyss of magic. We will no longer be mere men, but beings who come to posses the powers to remake the world in our image. Are you ready my brothers?"

They responded once more in unison. "Yes, disciple Aamon."

"Then let us begin."

The cultists began to chant and focus their mana. Energy permeated throughout the crypt. The flames of the surrounding candles grew into long tendrils of fire that coiled and whirled about the circle.

Suddenly they converged at the center and formed a brilliant ball of fire. The flames subdued and revealed a starry black sphere in the center of the ball, the flames lapped around it. It was a hole in the very fabric of space and time.

The group's breathing was ragged and it was clear that their ritual was rapidly draining their vitality. "Disciple Aamon! Now!"

Aamon outstretched his hand and a wispy tendril shot forward into the hole. It stopped halfway in as if it had made contact with something.

"Disciple Aamon! Hurry!" The cultists were dropping to their knees one by one as they forced themselves to stay conscious.

Aamon yanked his tendril back out of the hole.

There was a flash of light and the cultists collapsed to the ground, the fiery gate closed and the hole in reality disappeared. Half of the cultists laid on the ground unconscious while the other half shakily stood up struggling to catch their breath.

"We did it….We did it disciple Aamon."

However Aamon was not sharing in the triumphant smiles of his brothers. He was staring at the object that his tendril had supposedly pulled from the realm of the gods.

"No, this isn't right. Something is wrong."

Laying in the center of the circle was a happily sleeping man. The cultists wiped the light from their eyes and began to look at the man with confusion.

He looked to be in his late forties. His features were sharp and well defined, and his face was like that of a wolf. His nose and chin looked to be artfully chiseled from stone and they came to sharp points, his cheeks were flat and smooth. His eyes and mouth were shut but they curled into a slightly sinister smile on his happily sleeping face. He had the kind of face one would expect to see on a movie poster. He had short hair that would've been a beautiful shade of umber, but it had already started to grey, possibly due to a stressful life.

"We were supposed to pull some kind of tablet or tome from the other side, not a person."

Worried glances were being exchanged amongst the cultists. "Could he be a god?"

Aamon cautiously walked over to the mysterious man sleeping in the circle and passed his hand over him. "No, it can't be."

"What is it, disciple Aamon?"

"I can't detect any magic from him at all, he's just an ordinary human."

"Is it possible we overshot it and caught someone from some village somewhere?"

Aamon scratched his chin, "That may be the case… no, wait, look."

They looked at the man's alien clothing. He was wearing a t-shirt and blue jeans along with a magnetic bracelet.

"I've never seen clothes like this before."

Suddenly their eyes went wide. "Look, his chest! There's writing!"

On the man's chest was a set of large japanese characters. Aamon's piercing amber eyes examined them closely.

"Yes, yes. I recognize this language, this is the language of the gods."

He continued to look the man over. "He gives off no magical signature whatsoever, but he might still have the magical knowledge we're after. Let's keep him under surveillance and wait for him to wake up."

...

The cultists had carefully moved the sleeping man into a small stone room within the crypt. They were unsure of how to best handle him. They had buckled him to a chair so that he couldn't escape, but had still made sure that he would at least be comfortable when he woke up.

The room was damp and every surface was made of stone brick. The only light source was a magical point of pale blue light that lazily wandered through the air.

Aamon sat across from their new guest along with another cultist.

The sleeping man broke his peaceful rhythmic breathing and began to slowly open his dark green eyes. He spoke groggily "Wha?.. Where am I?"

"Greetings, my name is Aamon. We are the ones who brought you into this world."

The man began to shake the sleep out of his head and realized his hands and legs were bound to the chair.

"W-Wait, what is this? Who are you people!?" He looked at the little point of light floating through the air.

Aamon took a deep breath and was half relieved. It seemed to him that the person they had just summoned was just a simple human, and not some all powerful god who could smite them, "As I said, my name is Aamon. We are the ones who grabbed you from your world, we would very much like to know everything you have to tell us about magic. Could I ask your name?"

The man was fully awake now and staring back at Aamon with an arrogant fury. "Oh please. Of course you know who I am. This isn't the first time someone has tried to kidnap me."

"What?" Aamon was genuinely confused.

"I wouldn't be surprised if my security detail comes marching through that door right now."

The cultist in the back shifted with a worried look as Aamon sat internalizing this for a second, "So who are you then?"

"Cut the bull shit. You wouldn't have kidnapped me without knowing who I was. I'm Wesley Asimov Stockwell for crying out loud! Owner of Stockwell Industries. 2132 Nobel Prize in chemistry."

Aamon's face showed no sign of recognition, which slightly irritated Stockwell. He was confident that his kidnappers didn't pose him any real danger to him, so he chose to act angry in order to intimidate them.

"I funded the mission to Europa last year. There's a fucking unit of measurement named after me. I could probably buy this whole goddamn country if your fucking corporate counsel would allow it!"

Aamon was unmoved, like a still pond. "And what country would that be?"

The question startled Stockwell, he looked around the decrepit stone room. For some reason his eyes kept glancing back to the pale blue light that was wandering through the air. "This is Japan right? I was here on vacation."

Aamon sat deep in thought as he tried to determine the nature of the person in front of him, he decided it would be best to make him understand exactly where he is, "You are no longer in your world, this is the Re-Estize kingdom, and we are the cult who summoned you. We spent a great deal of effort trying to get you here. So I will ask you nicely once more, tell us everything you know about magic."

Stockwell stopped. He had been feeling that something was very out of place since he woke up, and not just because he had been kidnapped. His feigned anger disappeared.

"After you tell me how you're doing that magic trick."

"Excuse me?"

Stockwell's eyes were now locked on to the pale blue light, "The light. How are you doing it?"

"What do you mean? It's magic obviously."

"Cut the bull shit. I just now realised that that was what had been bugging me since I woke up. It can't be magnetic levitation, there's no way you robbed freaks have magnets installed in this god forsaken crypt. It can't be localized gravitation either since it's floating under its own weight and it's still managing to produce light. And I don't see any anchors for strings either. All I can think of is some kind of microscopic hot air balloon, but that would require some kind of controlled fusion reaction to produce that level of light from something so small."

Stockwell sneered and mimicked what Aamon had just said, " _So I will ask nicely once more_ , how the hell are you doing it?"

Aamon stopped and looked at the man as if trying to discern if he was serious, he gave a safe answer. "Like I said, it's magic."

The reply he got was instant and full of vitriol. "I said to cut the bull shit. Magic isn't real."

A world where magic didn't exist was simply too alien for Aamon's mind to grasp, so he assumed that Stockwell was trying to make fun of his relative naivete.

"In that case Mr… Stockwell was it? It seems we'll have to resort to violence."

Stockwell's bravado disappeared instantly. The bindings around his hands and feet suddenly felt very tight. "V-Violence?"

"Yes, violence."

Aamon looked over his shoulder.

"Brother Ishtar, I think it's time our guest learned exactly what position he's in."

The cultist shuffled and revealed a wooden club bristled with small metal wires.

Stockwell began to struggle in his chair. "Y-you're g-going to regret i-it if y-you hurt me."

The cultist hesitated, unsure of the threat made by the mysterious man who could still very well be a god.

"Relax brother Ishtar, I assure you, this man is powerless."

The cultists gulped and continued forward.

Aamon strided to the door, "I think you'll be spending a lot of time with us, Mr. Stockwell."

Aamon closed the door behind him and walked away so he wouldn't have to listen to the screams.

...

 **Seven Weeks later**

One of the rooms in the crypt had been converted into a torture room. Various metal tools hung from brackets fastened into the stone walls. In the middle was a wooden torture rack which complete with leather and iron restraints.

"Answer the question, Mr. Stockwell."

Stockwell lied sprawled on the rack while Aamon held a piece of paper to his face.

 _How long have I been in this god forsaken crpyt? One month? Two Months? When was the last time I've seen daylight?_

A torturer slowly fed a wire sideways into Stockwell's chest and blood was spurting out from around the hole where it entered. Stockwell was mumbling gibberish incoherently between his reflexive cries of pain.

The torturer stopped and looked back at Aamon, "I don't think he's listening, disciple Aamon. He's clearly insane."

Aamon's clear and calculating eyes stared intently at Stockwell's madly contorting face. "No, he's faking it. He's still sane."

"If you say so." The torture resumed feeding wire into his chest.

Stockwell released another gasp of pain and continued to mumble gibberish.

 _Dear god that hurts! Stop the torture already! Can't you see Mr. Aamon, I'm insane! I've been making a point to mumble gibberish ever since you started torturing me! Why won't you believe that I'm a madman!? Why won't you believe that I know nothing about magic!?_

Aamon's voice was void of mercy. "Answer the question Mr. Stockwell, I know you can read the language. You wouldn't have had that writing on you clothes if you couldn't."

Stockwell continued to cry in pain as the wire dug in between his ribs. _Of course I can't read Japanese! That shirt was a bloody souvenir! I speak english for christs sake!_

Aamon sighed for the thousandth time as he realised he wouldn't get any useful information from his prisoner today either.

"Cut the wire and heal the wound over it, throw him back in his cell and make him dig it out himself. We'll resume the questioning the same time tomorrow."

"Understood, disciple Aamon."

Aamon left the room and the torturer started to undo the rack's restraints.

...

Stockwell was being dragged through the labyrinth-esque crypt by a pair of cultists. His bare chest was covered with ugly scars and bruises. He was madly mumbling gibberish under his breath.

 _They must think I'm a devil or something. They take me out and torture me routinely, asking me all these questions about magic. I've been trying to fake madness as best as I can, but their leader, Aamon, it's like he can see right through me. He won't stop the damn questioning, he refuses to give up._

Leading ahead of them were two points of pale blue light that floated through the damp air.

 _Magic is real, there is no other explanation at this point. The lights, the fireballs, the lightning shooting from hands. I have no choice to believe I really have been summoned into some kind of fantasy world._

They reached Stockwell's cell. It was a completely sealed stone room with a heavy iron door, the only light source was a pale blue magical light. They threw him in without any sort of care and closed the door behind him.

 _They never even bother to take out the wires._

He began picking the metal out of his flesh, it made squelching noises as he dug his gore covered fingers into his flesh and pulled at the head of the wire. His body had long since acclimated to the pain. He lurched as he pulled the bloody wire out of his body, it was nearly a foot in length. He threw it into a pile of wooden and metal scraps, fragments of broken torture devices that he had been forced to dig out of his body.

 _So far I've only been faking madness, but now I can really feel my sanity slipping away_

His face curled into a wolfish grin. _I'm going to kill every last one of them before that happens._

...

"Hello? Mr. Prisoner?" There was a woman's voice coming from the other side of the door.

 _Awww yes, the female. I guess I'll go greet her._

Stockwell stood up and approached the heavy iron door. He started to mumble. He had perfected the art of acting like a madman.

The hatch on the top of the door slid open, revealing the face of a hooded young woman. The first thing he noticed was that her eyes were two different colors. Her left eye was a chalky yellow, and her right, a deep purple-black. It was as though an artist had crafted the eyes of her porcelain face using a chunk of sulfur and a shard of obsidian.

Peeking out from under her hood was a lock of flowing raven hair. Stockwell's first impression of her was that she was breathtakingly beautiful. He maintained his facade.

She stared back into Stockwell's blank, wayward green eyes, as if trying to discern if there was truly an inherent madness behind them.

She spoke through his mumbling. "...Anyways, I've been assigned to give you your meals from now on."

She opened the hatch at the bottom of the door and slid in a tray of textureless gruel.

Stockwell didn't respond and simply continued his mumbling.

She closed the hatch and stood back up and looked into Stockwell's eyes once more. She shook her head and turned to leave.

She continued to walk down the stone corridor and almost rounded the corner when-

"You know fräulein, you don't particularly strike me as a cultist."

She turned and looked back at the cell door. Did that madman just call out to her? She was unsure if she was just hearing things.

Stockwell called out to her again, his speech was light and fluent, "Your eyes are very beautiful fräulein, they aren't the eyes of crypt bound cultist."

She stood frozen for a long time, unsure of how to respond to Stockwell. She decided she should just ignore him. She slowly walked away down the corridor, but as she was about to round the corner, she stopped once more.

She couldn't ignore him. She hunched over while grabbing her chest, something the madman had said had struck a chord within her.

She spoke without looking back toward the cell, "It's Vera. My name is Vera."

She couldn't see Stockwell's face, but she was sure he was giving her a warm smile, "Well then, Miss Vera. You best be moving along now, we wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious now would we?"

"Y-Yeah…"

She rounded the corner and Stockwell could hear her footsteps echoing down the stone corridor.

 _I think this woman is my ticket out of here._

...

Stockwell worked in near-complete darkness since the magical light in his cell was incredibly weak. He was scouring through the fragments of broken torture devises that he had accrued in his cell. He was looking for usable bits of wood and iron.

 _Those fools, they think I'm powerless, they let me keep my braclet, they have no idea what a magnet and some iron scraps are capable of._

He undid his magnetic bracelet and began assembling something. _That Aamon is too confident in his magic, say's he'd like to see me struggle to get out of his magically sealed cell. I can't wait to see his face as I'm holding a dagger to his throat._

Stockwell's mouth curled into a truly insane grin. _I just need a few more bits of metal to get this working. I hope the torturers use that spikey one today, that one tends to leave the most metal in my body for me to pick out later._

His hands continued to move in the pale blue light, he began to laugh maniacally to himself.

 _I'm actually looking forward to torture, perhaps I really am going insane._

Suddenly there was a rhythmic thumping on the cell's door. "Mr. Stockwell?"

 _Awww yes, it's the female again. What was her name again? Oh that's right, Miss Vera._

Stockwell stopped his hands and went to meet her at the door's window.

She was trying not to look him in the eyes, "I've brought you your meal."

She opened the door's bottom hatch and was about to slide in the tray of gruel, but she stopped halfway.

"Is it true?"

"Hmm?"

She was taking glances at Stockwell, "What you said about my eyes, and… what you said about me not being a cultist."

 _Aww, I think I see where this is going._

Stockwell straightened his posture and gave her his warmest smile. "Of course Miss Vera, the moment I saw your eyes, it was as though I saw the brilliant sun, shining in your left, and the sacred night, hiding in your right. A glimmering marble of pyrite next to freshly cut onyx. Your eyes spoke to me, Miss Vera, they told me that you were a diamond in the rough, a rose among weeds, a light in the darkness. They told me that you were out of place amongst these cut throat cultists."

Stockwell impressed himself on how fluently he had recited that. _Hopefully she's the type that's receptive to flattery._

She pushed the tray in through the bottom hatch. She stood and leaned her back against the door. Stockwell could see the side of her face and her raven black hair as she stared at the stone wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

"The truth is, Mr. Stockwell, I've always thought I didn't fit in with the cult either."

 _Oh? So there was more to this then._

"We were actually once part of a larger organization called Zuranon. My grandfather, Aamon, he was one of the leaders there, one of the twelve disciples."

Stockwell decided it would be best to actively involve himself in the conversation. "So what happened?"

"First, I think it should be noted that Zuranon is a cult that prizes the art of necromancy. They will stop at nothing if it means gaining more power. I've seen them slaughter entire villages."

 _I think I'm begging to get the picture here._ "So what happened? You said that you guys were no longer part of this larger group?"

"Yes, there was this ritual, one that enables people to turn themselves into liches. As one of the twelve disciples of Zuranon, my grandfather was supposed to undergo this ritual."

"But he was scared?"

Vera turned and looked at Stockwell, surprise written on her face. "How did you know?"

"I just had a hunch, please, continue Miss Vera."

"Y-Yes, it's as you say, he was scared to give up his humanity. He kept looking for ways to increase his power without turning himself into a lich."

"And they kicked him out?"

"Yes, exactly. He became obsessed with the idea that he could open a door to the realm of gods and steal their knowledge. The other disciples thought he was crazy. They kicked him out along with his followers, myself included."

She stared back out into space. "I've never met my parents, I've been under my grandfather's care for as long as I can remember. He's been raising me to be his successor, a sorcerer and a murderer. He says that I have talent as a magic caster, but also that I'm too soft. The other cultists agree with him."

"I see, but being soft and having empathy isn't necessarily a bad trait."

She silently thanked him and continued.

"I'm the only one who can go outside since all the others are wanted criminals. They're always sending me into the city to buy supplies. Everything is so different out there. There's no killing, no dark magic, there's smiles and laughter. I can't help but see all the things missing from my life."

She wiped a tear from her eyes. "You're the first person to compliment my eyes."

 _Huh? I thought that such a unique feature like heterochromia would be coveted, perhaps this world really is a call back to the prejudice dark ages._

"The people I meet in the cities just ignore me or call me weird behind my back. And the cultists here are incapable of giving compliments. So it made me really happy when you said that."

Stockwell read the mood and decided it would be best give her an affirmation, "It seems to me that you're just not socializing with the right people."

She nodded in silent thanks and then leaned her head against the iron door, looking at the stone ceiling of the crypt.

"Some of the others are calling you devil."

"Are they now?"

"Yes, most of them think you're just a madman who stumbled into the summoning spell. But a few of them are scared of you. They've even given you a nickname."

"And what could that be?"

"They've taken to calling you 'Rhamnusia'. It's a name from an old children's story about a demon who punishes mortals for their hubris. They're scared that you're secretly a devil, and that you're here to punish us for trying to tamper with the realm of the gods. They think you're faking madness, that you're actually lying in wait for the chance to smite us."

 _Hmm? Rhamnusia? Isn't that a greek goddess? I must say that I'm not particularly displeased with my reputation._

"So tell me, Miss Vera, what do you think I am?"

"At the very least, I don't think you're insane. But I also don't think you're a demon."

 _Well, that was to be expected-_

"I actually think you're a god."

"Excuse me?" It was a natural reaction, Stockwell had a stupid expression on his face.

Vera turned to look at Stockwell, her mismatched eyes were filled with conviction. "Yes. You must be. You're so kind, and you seem so wise. And I saw for myself during the summoning, you definitely came from the realm of the gods. And I've heard stories about how the gods sometimes disguise themselves as mortals in order to judge us. That must be it! There's no other explanation!"

 _What the hell? Is she stupid? Wait, no, this is good, I can use this. Wait! No, if I try to use this and she learns the truth, there's no telling the damage that could cause. I need to play this safe._

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself fräulein, I could very well just be random person with a thing for multi-colored eyes. And believe me Miss Vera when I say that I am not a nice person." _I'm planning on killing everyone in this crypt after all._

This only steeled her conviction. "You're just trying to test my faith, right? Don't worry, I know in my heart that you're a god, I'm sure of it."

Stockwell was stunned.

Vera finished giving him his meal and stood to leave. She walked a little ways down the corridor stopped. She turned and bowed toward the cell.

Her face was ablush, "Thank you for the talk, Mr. Stockwell…..sama."

As she added that last honorific, she giggled softly to herself, like a little sister who had just learned an important secret about her older brother that only she knew.

She turned on her heel and bounded around the corner.

Stockwell was still recovering from the unexpected direction the conversation had taken. _I guess it could be worse._

...

Stockwell worked like a man possessed. He was using his nails to tirelessly carve fragments of wood into usable shapes. His fingers were bleeding and covered in splinters, but he didn't seem to mind the pain.

 _Damn this blood, it's making the wood all slippery._

He wiped away some of the blood and continued to dig his nails into the little fragment of wood.

 _Yes, Just a little longer now and I'll kill them all._

He was mumbling insanely to himself as he feverishly worked.

 _I'm going to kill them all, I'm going to kill them-_

There was a knock on the door.

 _Blasted! They found me out! Wait, no…_

"Stockwell-sama?"

 _It's the female, and she's using those damn Japanese honorifics. GO AWAY!_

He yelled in his mind but stopped himself because he realized he was acting crazy. _Wait no, this is good, I forgot that I'm using her._

He got up and walked to the door's window. His mumbling subdued and he put on his warmest smile.

He was met with a pair of eyes, one yellow and one black.

"I've brought your food for you, Stockwell-sama."

As she was was opening the bottom hatch and sliding the tray in, Stockwell stood deep in thought.

 _If I asked her to help me escape, there's no doubt she would agree. But I doubt we would be able to do so, not with that hawk Aamon flying around. I can use her, but I need to do it in a way that won't cause too much suspicion._

"Excuse me, Miss Vera?"

She looked up through the window, "What is it, Stockwell-sama?"

"This may seem like an odd request, but when you give me my meals, could you also give me some chili peppers?

"Chili peppers?"

"Yes, the spiciest chilies you can get."

She nodded with conviction, "Understood."

 _Well that was easy._

"And could I also get some alcohol."

"Alcohol too?"

"Yes, it doesn't have to be expensive, just something with a high alcohol content."

She nodded again. "Okay, got it. Do you need anything else, Stockwell-sama?"

"Yes actually, two more things. One, you can stop using that honorific, it would be suspicious if someone overheard you calling me that."

She looked away, slightly embarrassed, "I-I understand, Mr. Stockwell."

"And two, could I see that necklace you're wearing?"

"Huh?" She looked down at the necklace hanging around her neck, it was a simple loop of string connected to some kind of shiny silver rock.

"Yes, I'd like to take a look at it."

"Uh, Okay." She sheepishly pulled down her hood, revealing her flowing black hair. She lifted her necklace up around her head and handed it to Stockwell through the window.

He held the angular grey rock in his hands and examined it.

 _This is a chunk of pyrolusite ore, manganese dioxide, I can use this._

"Where did you get this?"

"I got it last time I went into the city to get supplies. There was a stall there selling a whole bunch of them. They were really cheap and I thought it was pretty so I bought it."

"Hmm, yes, I see, it certainly is pretty, then how about this, every time you go into the city, could you grab a little for me? Not too much though, just maybe one or two here and there, we wouldn't want your grandfather getting suspicious of us."

Vera hadn't the faintest idea what he was planning, but she trusted the wisdom of someone she believed to be a deity in disguise, "I-I see, in that case, you can keep that one, I'll get some more next time."

"You have my thanks, Miss Vera."

She finished giving him his meal and stood back up.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you escape? I would do it if you asked me to..."

Stockwell gave her a warm smile. "And are you confident we could succeed?"

She looked down at the ground, cursing her own powerlessness, "No..."

"That is quite alright, Miss Vera. I am more than capable of handling myself. Your continued faith and friendship is more than enough."

"I-I see."

She turned and bowed before leaving.

Stockwell's face turned into a truly insane grin after she rounded the corner. _You don't know it, but_ _you're actually already helping me kill everyone here._

...

One of the stone bricks in Stockwell's cell was loose, and after several weeks of effort, he had managed to pry it loose. Behind it however was an invisible magic barrier that the cultists had supposedly cast. He didn't care however because he wasn't planning to escape like that anyways.

He had been using the heavy stone brick to crush chili peppers that he had left to dry in his cell. For the last several weeks he had been drying and crushing chilies and then rinsing them with alcohol, leaving them to evaporate. After many repeated distillations and filtering through cloth, he had ended up with a thick, reddish-black liquid. He had torn a piece of cloth from his ragged trousers and was using it as a makeshift face mask and gloves.

His madness was no longer feigned, he had long since succumbed to the never ending daily torture. He laughed maniacally as he carefully siphoned off the liquid into a small glass phial that Vera had given him.

 _I don't care if those bastards are magic, this will bring a dragon to it's knees. Aamon knows what I'm doing in here, but he doesn't know why I'm doing it. He is too confident in that magic of his. Men must be punished punished punished for their hubris._

He continued to laugh like a madman.

He looked at the large pile of silvery rocks in the corner of his cell. _It's only a matter of time now, that should be enough manganese dioxide to clear out this whole crypt, all I need now is some hydrochloric acid, luckily that isn't hard to find if you know where to look._

He hid the phial of liquid underneath his bedroll.

 _I'm going to kill them all. I only need a little more time now._

He took a large glass of water that had been sitting on his tray and placed it in the middle of the cell. He then revealed a small wooden crank with a couple of wires sticking from it. He stuck the wires into the glass of water and began to turn the crank.

 _Weak current is still current, I have time time time._

Bubbles were slowly forming on the wires and rising out of the glass.

 _Hydrogen and oxygen, boom, hot. That magic barrier is keeping all the hydrogen in._

He kept turning the little crank tirelessly for an hour straight until his arm hung limp with exhaustion. Nearly half of the water had turned into gas.

 _How many glasses is this now? 10? 100? 1000? I don't know it's almost time..._

There was the sound of locks being undone.

 _It's the magic. Time to hide._

He hid the crank under his bed roll and drank the rest of the water with his arm that wasn't exhausted.

A single robbed cultist pushed the heavy door open and walked in. He held his nose due to the stench.

"You know what time it is prisoner, out with you."

 _They're only sending one man to retrieve me now, they must be punished for their hubris._

...

Stockwell was strapped to the wooden torture rack and laughing like a madman.

Aamon was holding out in his hand a chunk of pyrolusite ore, "Whatever you're planning, it won't work Stockwell, it's just a rock. Know that any one of my brothers that walk these halls could kill you with a point of finger. However, I'm eager to watch you struggle, which is why I've been letting Vera give you your meals."

Stockwell was giggling maniacally and repeating after Aamon "...hehe...just a rock...hehe... just a rock rock rock."

Aamon wasn't paying attention. "I don't know what Vera sees in you. She thinks you're some kind of gdo of justice in disguise."

He put down the rock and combed his palm through his hair in a tired manner. "What a stupid girl."

He leaned in so that he was only inches away from Stockwell's giggling face. "You want to know what I think, Mr. Stockwell?"

"...stupid girl...hehe...what a stupid girl...hehe…girl…"

"I think you really do have the knowledge we're looking for. And I even agree with Vera in some respecst. You most certainly did come from the realm of gods, but outside your realm your powerless. And now, you're nothing but a deprived and depraved little imp, as all gods are. You just won't crack because you don't want to lose. I will break you Stockwell, I don't care how long it takes. You'll be mine to keep Stockwell, so don't worry, I won't kill you."

"...hehe…kill you…. Hehe...kill...kill… hehe…kill...you..."

Aamon sighed and gestured to the cultist behind him. "Take him back to his cell."

"Understood."

He undid the restraints on the torture rack and dragged Stockwell out of the room

 _That was the last time I'll be on that rack, Mr. Aamon._

Aamon watched them leave the room. He was used to seeing Stockwell's deranged smile as he was dragged from the room so many times before then. When he had first seen it, it was clearly faked, but it had gradually gotten more and more sincere over the last several weeks.

However the one that he had just seen plastered on Stockwell's wolfish face, for the very first time, it had genuinely disturbed him.

...

Stockwell was playing peekaboo while having a conversation with the little blue light floating in his cell.

"Why yes, little light, you do have a very nice smile. What me? Noooooo, you're too kind Mr. Light."

He heard a knock on the door followed by a woman's voice.

"Mr. Stockwell, I've brought your food."

The moment he heard her voice, it was like a switch being turned off and his insanity disappeared. He ceased his ramblings and walked to the door's sliding window. The two of them had grown very close over the last several weeks and he had realized that his madness subsided whenever he talked to her.

The hatch at the bottom of the door opened and a tray of gruel slid in, along with a small glass of alcohol, three medium sized chili peppers, and a small silvery rock.

"Thank you, Miss Vera. You have been a good friend to me during my stay here."

Vera turned her mismatched eyes away from the door and blushed. "You're too kind, Mr. Stockwell."

"Not at all Miss Vera. Your friendship has helped me in more ways than you realise."

"It has?"

"Yes, it really has. So as a reward for your faith and your friendship, I will give you a little bit of advice."

Vera's eyes showed that she was ready to listen.

"Leave this crypt and do not come back within the next 48 hours."

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she stopped herself. She nodded in understanding. "I understand."

"Excellent. Then I hope to see you again soon, but under different circumstances, Miss Vera."

"Me too."

After she bowed, she turned and left her god with a smile.

The moment she rounded the corner, it was like the switch had turned back on and Stockwell's insanity returned.

He reached down and picked up the silvery rock and threw atop the pile in the corner.

His sharp features morphed into a wolfish grin.

 _Now, we wait._

* * *

 **Name:** Wesley Asimov Stockwell

 **Epithet:** Madman, Rhamnusia

 **Birthday:** October 10th, 2091 AD

 **Residence:** Aamon's Crypt

 **Racial Level: Total:** N/A

Human: N/A

 **Job Level: Total: ?**

Scientist: ?

Physicist: ?

Chemist: ?

Lunatic: ?

 **Stats: Total: ?**

* * *

 **Name:** Vera Calico Koshkin

 **Epithet:** Female Cultist, Mismatched Eyes

 **Birthday:** Upper Flame Month, 13th Day

 **Residence:** Aamon's Crypt

 **Racial Level: Total:** N/A

Human: N/A

 **Job Level: Total: ?**

Wizard: ?

Necromancer: ?

 **Stats: Total: ?**


	2. Divine Retribution

Stockwell was crushing the pile of pyrolusite ore into blackish powder using his stone brick that he had freed from the wall several weeks prior.

"This is the last time you'll see me. I'm going to kill the magic man who cast you."

He was talking to the pale blue light that floated around his cell. "You've been a good friend to me Mr. Light."

He continued to crush the silvery-black ore underneath his heavy stone brick. _Crushy crushy crushy..._

"Do you think magic man have magic stomachs, Mr. Light?"

The light continued to float aimlessly, but Stockwell was sure he had heard it reply. "What!? really!? I can't wait to see, Mr. Light."

There was the sound of locks being undone behind the heavy iron door. _It's the magic men. Good..._

He stopped crushing the ore and crept up behind the doorway, brick in hand.

The door began to slowly creep open. _Yes yes yes…_

It opened a little more and a black-robed took a step in. _Yes… A little more._

"Alright prisoner, you know what time it…...wait, where are you?"

 _… just one more step._

The cultist took one more step into the room.

Stockwell stepped behind him and using all of his strength, raised the brick high and crashed it over the cultist's head. **SMASH**. It would not have been possible if the cultist had taken precautions, but the security around the crypt had grown lax.

The cultists immediately dropped unconscious to the floor. Stockwell's hand began furiously scouring the cultist's limp body.

 _Dagger, dagger... wheres the blasted dagger!?_ His hands met the object he was looking for. He pulled the shiny metal blade from out of the cultist's belt.

He grabbed the dagger with both hands and thrusted it hard into the cultists chest, strait through the heart. He pulled out the blade and blood spurted from the wound.

He grinned happily. _One down. Next step_ _._

He picked up the body and dragged it to the back of his cell. He threw the body over himself like a shield.

 _Need more magic men._

He screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to summon more of the cultist into his cell. "HEEEELLLLP! RAWWWWW! HEEEELLLLPPPP!"

He kept screaming from under the cultist he had just killed. Three cultists heard the screaming and rushed to the cell.

They slowly walked into the cell. "Woah woah woah, calm down-"

They noticed he was hiding under one of their dead brothers. "T-THE BASTARD! HE KILLED ISAAC!"

Two more cultists came running through the corridor and joined them. "Oh god. Isaac's dead."

The five of them began to slowly creep up to the screaming madman who was hiding under the body, spreading out and encircling him.

"HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT, FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE!"

One of the cultists was nearing him. "You bastard, I'll show you fire."

The cultist's hand lit aflame in preparation for a fire spell, and then-

Stockwell ducked underneath the body and closed his eyes and ears. He had been using his little electric hand crank to separate hydrogen and oxygen from water over the past several weeks. Kept in by the magic barrier, the hydrogen had accumulated to nearly head height. It caught the flame from the cultist's hand and a massive fire ball filled the room. Stockwell was low to the ground and was out of reach from the fireball, he was left unhurt behind his meat shield.

"GAH!" All five of the cultists had been unprepared and had had their eyes and faces completely burned off. They staggered around screaming in pain as they began to frantically start healing themselves.

Stockwell sprung buck up from behind the body and began using his dagger to efficiently exterminate the disabled cultists.

He ruthlessly plunged the dagger into the blinded cultists chests one by one. _That's five more down._

He was positively jubilant as he prepared the next stage of his extermination plan. He walked to the pile of crushed ore and began shoveling it out into the corridor.

The hydrogen wasn't compressed so it didn't make an overly loud noise when it ignited, and he had already killed all the cultists within earshot of the cell, so he had time before others would arrive.

He dragged the six dead bodies out of the cell and piled them atop the mound of crushed silvery ore. Stockwell used his dagger to carve open their stomachs one by one.

Gastric acid began to spill out onto the mound. The manganese dioxide in the ore began to oxidize the chlorine ions in the hydrochloric acid contained in the cultist's stomach acid. The crushed ore began to swell up to several times its volume as it began rapidly forming manganese chloride, water, and bubbles of chlorine gas.

Pale yellow gas began to fill the corridor. _I learned from Vera how big this crypt is, healing magic is useless if it won't actually expel the chlorine from your lungs. You're all going to die like rats trapped in a hole._

Stockwell laughed like a madman as he ran down the corridor, following the directions he had gotten from Vera.

...

"Discple Aamon!"

A cultist crashed in through Aamon's doorway. He was holding back vomit.

Aamon sprang from his desk.

"What is it brother Ishtar!? What's wrong?"

Ishtar was struggling to speak as he coughed up bile and pale yellow gas. "I-t's.. It-'s… It's the…"

He didn't need to finish sentence, Aamon had already knew in his heart what he was going to say. And also because another cultist came crashing through the doorway, tripping over Ishtar's retching body. His eyes were filled with a mad panic.

"IT'S HIM! IT'S HIM! IT'S THE DEMON RHAMNUSIA! HE'S COME TO SMITE US FOR TAMPERING WITH THE REALM OF GODS!"

Aamon couldn't maintain his composer. Had he been naive to think that Stockwell was powerless?

"For god's sake, calm down! Tell me what's going on!"

The panicked cultist was crouched down and holding his head in between his hands. He rocked back and forth "He cast some kind of gas spell, It kills anyone who breathes it in. He's already killed seven of our brothers, and six more of them are missing."

He screamed at the top of his lungs and fled back out through the doorway, tripping over Ishtar's retching body once more. "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

Aamon shakily stood to his legs. _Doesn't anyone here know air purification magic!?_ He already knew that answer. They were necromancers and arcane magic casters who had no use for such trivial things.

He stood there for a long time, deep in thought. Stockwell had monopolised his thoughts and he was completely frozen in a trance. _How had he hidden his magical abilities from my appraisal magic?_

He completely forgot about Ishtar who had passed out and died on the floor while Aamon simply stood there.

He stepped over Ishtar's corpse and headed to the crypt's exit to await the demon's inevitable arrival. And to hopefully stop him from getting out and destroying the entire world.

...

Vera had thoroughly schooled him on the layout of the crypt. Stockwell had a complete mental map and had chosen corridor's wisely to avoid getting poisoned by the chlorine gas, while still managing to avoid most of the cultists. He had only run into a single cultists, but the cultist immediately fled in panic when he saw him. This disappointed Stockwell because it meant that yet another one of the cultists had escaped his death trap.

He rounded the final corner and ahead of him was the stone staircase that led to the surface. There was an old man standing guard in front of it.

Stockwell stood across the hall from him. His pale chest was bare and riddled with ugly scars from all the torture he had been subjected to. He wore a ragged pair of trouser and his feet were bare and calloused. His mouth was hidden behind a makeshift cloth face mask, but Aamon could tell from the insanity in his wayward green eyes, that his mouth was curled into a sadistically toothy smile. Pale yellow gas began to slowly creep into the corridor behind Stockwell, there was no turning back.

Aamon stood stalwart against the human turned demon. His amber eyes were steeled over. He was committing every bone in his spindly old body to the task of preventing the madman's escape.

Stockwell was the first to speak. "You know Mr. Aamon, I really have gone insane."

Aamon stood his ground. "Have you now?"

"Oh yes yes yes indeed. I've found that the only things keeping be bound to sanity are Mr. Light, that lovely granddaughter of yours-"

His head cocked to one side, "And imaging how I was going to kill you."

"I still don't know what we pulled from the other side of that gate, a human, a devil, a god, but I do know one thing."

Aamon gripped his staff and flung his arms open, his black robes rustled with power. "And that's that we should've killed you the moment you stepped foot in our world!"

"[Acid Javile-]!"

Stockwell didn't give him time to complete his spell. He immediately hurled a some kind of object wrapped in cloth at him.

Aamon stopped his spell and prepared to receive Stockwell's attack, "Hmph, child's play, [Disintegration]!"

He pointed his finger at the object flying towards him and it broke into millions of tiny pieces. He expected to get hit with a harmless shower of light debris, but instead-

"Shit! Gah! AWWWWW!"

Stockwell had hidden his phial of reddish-black liquid underneath the cloth. When Aamon had cast his spell, he inadvertently vaporized the liquid inside.

He was hit by a cloud of reddish-black vapor and he kneeled over in intense pain. His skin was forming massive red boils and his eyes were shut. He was closing his eyelids as if his life depended on it.

"HOT! HOT! HAAAWWWWWWWT!"

Stockwell casually walked up to Aamon who was rolling on the floor, he held his cloth to his face and was heeding to stay out of the vapor cloud.

"I'm not much of a drinker Mr. Aamon, and I don't particularly like spicy foods, so what do you think I was doing with all that alcohol and all those peppers?."

Aamon was curled into a ball. He had breathed in the vapor and was into too much pain to even think.

"The answer, Mr. Aamon, is that I was concentrating capsaicin."

Stockwell took much pleasure in watching the old man, who had so often bloviated about the power of magic, taken down by what amounts to some distilled pepper juice.

"Pure capsaicin is impossibly nasty stuff. Even the strongest pepper sprays dilute it to about 3% so it doesn't cause permanent damage. But don't worry, it won't kill you, you'll most likely be blind for the rest of your life and have some minor lung damage. No no no, what you should be worried about it that."

He stuck his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the corridor behind him that was filling with a pale yellow gas.

"Normally one wouldn't have expected to see this much chlorine gas, but because you've done such a great job sealing this place with magic, and because most the corridors in this crypt are really tiny save a few, there is luckily just enough to fill this place up to the brim."

He waked around to the side of Aamon's crying heap. He stomped hard the old man's legs. He felt bone crack beneath his feet. The necromancer would be dying in this crypt.

He stopped before the stairs. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get a deep breath of fresh air."

Aamon's mind was crying in pain, but he was determined to stop the demon. He focused his burning ears on were he thought Stockwell to be.

He fought through the pain and raised his finger at Stockwell's retreating back "[A-Acid-d J-Javelin]..."

A small jet of liquid shot forward and skimmed Stockwell's torso. It burned a large gash in his side, any closer and it would've been fatal.

Stockwell elicited as small whimper. He fell to his knees but shakily caught himself, pulling himself back up. He looked back at Aamon with a twisted smile.

"Hehe.. Hehehe… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" He broke out into demented laughter.

"Did you think that would hurt after all you bastards put me through!? Look! You even cauterized the wound for me!"

He clutched his side and continued up the stairs. "Wait for me in hell."

Aamon fell limply to the ground. Stockwells' footsteps receded from earshot. "... please, gods... all I wanted... was too..."

A thin mist of chlorine entered his lungs and he began to choke.

...

Stockwell reached the top of the stairs. The stone door ahead of him had already been rolled open. He limped outside and felt cool grass beneath his feet. Lying a few meters away from him was the body of another cultist, likely someone who had inhaled too much chlorine and had died immediately after escaping the crypt.

Stockwell was finally free after having been a prisoner for nearly five months.

The nighttime breeze blew through the surrounding trees and carried a cacophony of pining crickets. He felt the cool air on his face and the soft mud beneath his feet. Stockwell looked up towards the sky and his eyes grew wide.

The night sky he was used to seeing on earth was a smoggy black blanket, devoid of change and color. He had never seen a star in his life. But the sky he now saw above him was uncomprehendable.

It was a great indigo sea where stars splashed about in a cornucopia of life and color. They flickered in blues, yellows, and reds, like molten silver and gold scattered about a canvas. They drifted about the indigo sea, like countless lost souls pining to be free, yearning to show their light.

Nebulae painted the sky in great algal blooms rising from the seafloor. The great lavender blooms acted like the primary producers of the food chain. Wherever they appeared, the sky was awash with the light of life.

The moon rose behind the silhouette of mountains, like a lighthouse that stood guard on the sea's rocky coast. The glimmering platinum orb was like the very eye of God himself, his soft white gaze calling out to his children below and assuring them from danger.

Stockwell's mental state was in complete shambles. He had been tortured for five months and had long since fallen into insanity. He hadn't a single goal left in all the world after finally enacting divine retribution on his captors.

He gazed upon explosions of color happening above him. He had no words to describe the sight.

He collapsed to his knees, his shins and toes dug into the soft mud, it was a pleasant sensation. He had known that magic existed in this new world of his, but now he truly felt it. Tears streamed from his face as he looked up into the sky. He shouted at the top of his lungs. It was filled with rage and despair.

"HOW DARE YOU!? HOW DARE YOU BE SO BEAUTIFUL!? WHY!? WHEN YOU KEPT ME IN THAT HOLE!?"

He had clawed his way out of hell, only to be greeted by such beauty. It was as though god himself had come down to mock him.

He was wailing his entire soul to the heavens above him. "HOW DARE YOU!? HOW DARE YOU DO SOMETHING SO CRUEL TO ME!? WHY GOD!? WHY!?"

He slammed his fist into the ground and tears continued to roll from his face. He began to sob, "I wouldn't have sinned so much if I had known heaven was that beautiful."

It hurt him more than any javelin of acid ever could.

"All I wanted to do was get back home. But now you've even taken that desire from me. How could I ever go back home knowing that there was a sky like this?"

He buckled over and began to wretch. He had inhaled too much chlorine. His eyes stung from trace amounts of capsaicin and tears, and every orphous of his body ached.

He collapsed to the ground and surrendered to sleep.

...

The Bareare residence in Carne Village was a humble little hovel. It had a simple wood and plaster walls and a simple thatched roof. The alchemist who resided it it was always brewing up foul smelling concoctions and the villagers took heed to stay clear of the stench.

One of the rooms inside had been converted into a makeshift infirmary. Splayed across the bed was a man riddled in ugly scars. His facial features were sharp and wolfish, but they were currently subdued as the formed a happily sleeping face.

"Is he going to make it, Enfi?" A beautiful blonde haired girl leaned over the back of a young man, trying to get a closer look at the stranger splayed on the bed. Her hair hung down into the young man's face, obstructing his view

Nfirea blushed as he politely brushed the the girl's hair out of his face.

"I think he'll be alright. I gave him a potion to help cure his insanity after Jugem-san brought him in last night."

He slowly passed his hands up and down the man's bare chest. "He has so many scars… It's clear that he was being tortured for a long time."

Nfirea and Enri looked at the man's broken and bandaged body with eyes overflowing with empathy. "When will he wake up?"

"I'm not sure. It could be anywhere from an hour to a week. The potion I gave him should take around ten days to completely take affect, so we'll need to be ready in case he happens to be violent."

Nfirea stood up and began to sheepishly usher Enri out of the room, "In any case, all we can do now is wait."

...

A young woman walked up a wooden reception desk. She was wearing a simple brown cloak that hid her flowing raven hair. Her eyes were mismatched, her left was the color of sulfur and her right was the color of obsidian.

The receptionist behind the counter paused when she noticed the strange eyes, partly from surprise and partly from disgust.

"Yes, how can I help you ma'am?"

Vera spoke in a soft voice. "I'm here to register with the guild. I had heard that all new magic casters were required to register with the magician's guild."

The receptionist looked her over and nodded, she produced a pen and paper and laid them on the desk, "In that case, I'll need you to sign here. What kind of magic are you able to cast and at what tier?"

Vera thought to herself. _It wouldn't be a good idea to tell them that I know necromancy, so I'll just stick with my arcane magic._

"I'm an arcane caster. I can cast magic up to the 3rd tier."

A stunned silence feel over the room followed by hushed whispers. "...3rd tier at that age… no way… she must be lying…...like that beautiful princess Nabe….."

 _Wait, what's wrong? Is 3rd tier too weak? My grandfather could cast up to the fourth tier._

The receptionist had a shocked expression on her face. "I-I see then, Miss…"

She looked at the piece of paper that Vera had just signed., "Mrs. Koshkin. I hope you don't mind if you come to the yard and demonstrate your magic, it's just a formality."

Vera gave a short bow. "Of course ma'am, please lead the way."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I've done my best to try and paint an escape plan that would be theoretically scientifically plausible, but for those of you who are not too concerned about the slight scientific inaccuracies, you can ignore this next part underneath.**

 **-One, how loud is the noise made by a partially filled room of uncompressed hydrogen. I do not know. It'll definitely make a sound, but I imagine it would be like a really loud *FUMPH* as the uncompressed hydrogen lazily made a big fireball. I don't know exactly how loud it would be since I don't exactly have a room full of hydrogen to test it. So I apologize if it turns out that it would most definitely have ruptured Stockwell's eardrums and summoned more cultists**

 **-Two, it is possible to isolate capsaicin using ethanol, it is just a little inefficient and time consuming if your using simple cloth as a filter like Stockwell is using. However it is theoretically possible. I apologize and understand if you're a bit skeptical of this, but hey, It would've been suspicious if he had Vera smuggle him something like acetone, so I had to make do.**

 **-Three, I left it up to the imagination exactly how big the crypt was, and said that the entire place was magically sealed so that the chlorine gas wouldn't escape into the ground. The chlorine wouldn't have had to fill up the corridors all the way anyway for one to still get a lethal dosage. Regardless, I understand six stomach's worth of hydrochloric acid still probably wouldn't be enough to produce the volume of gas I had described, but I hope that you can suspend your disbelief in respect for Mr. MacGyver. However, I do understand if you still want to give me some heat for it.**

 **-And finally, Stockwell's escape plan was to demonstrate his competence in science and chemistry, and not necessarily to show complete scientific accuracy. If I had wanted to make his escape more realistic, I would've have to have given him quite a lot of materials that would simply be way to suspicious for Aamon to let slide, and I was already pushing it with the pyrolusite ore. In the chapters to come however, I'll endeavor to be as scientifically accurate with how he solves problems using science and chemistry.**

 **-And once again, thank you for reading! I pray that you can forgive the liberties I've taken to write a story about a mad scientist fighting his way through a world of magic.**


	3. Past and Future

Nfirea's hand emitted a soft glow as he passed it over the man's side. Sitting behind him was a young girl with blond hair.

"It'll take a long time for this one to heal." He was holding his hand over a large gash in the man's side.

"What do you think caused it?" Enri leaned over to get a closer look at the wound. It was a crimson valley that cut deep into the right of his waist, pustules and discolorations gripped it's walls.

"The only thing that could've caused this is some kind of acid spell, and a powerful one at that. Even my [Acid Arrow] wouldn't have been able to completely destroy the flesh like this. It must have been caused by an incredibly powerful magic caster."

They both looked at the sleeping man's wolfish face, wondering about exactly what kind of journey he must have had, and the horrors he must have endured. They took note of his prematurely graying hair. "Luckily for him though, it seems the acid actually cauterized the wound and he hasn't gotten infected. I imagine he will make a complete recovery with time."

Enri watched as Nfirea began to bandage the man back up. "But he'll still have all those scars though, won't he?" She was looking at the myriad scars littered across his body.

He stopped his bandaging for a moment and then continued, "Yes, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it though."

Enri thought about the maid that the great Ainz Ooal Gown had sent them to help their village, surely healing some scars would be no trouble at all for someone like her. However, simply just the thought of Lupusregina made her shudder.

Nfirea interrupted her thinking as if he had read her thoughts. "As great a person Ainz-sama is, I don't want to have to keep relying on him and his maid."

He tried his best to impress the girl behind him by puffing out his chest. "I'm a man after all."

For some reason, Enri thought it was adorable seeing Nfirea puff out his chest and call himself a man. However, she did agree with his sentiment.

Suddenly they both looked at the man's twitching face. He had broken his rhythmic breathing and began to stir.

"He's waking up." Nfirea quickly finished wrapping up his bandages and began casting a healing spell.

Stockwell's eyes slowly opened to an unfamiliar ceiling. He sat up and began wondering why he wasn't in his normal, tastelessly opulent bed back home. He turned his head and looked confusedly at the two strangers standing at his bedside, who were also looking back at him with questioning looks. He looked down at Nfirea's magically glowing hands.

Suddenly his eyes grew wide. It was like a switch had been flipped in his head. All the memories from the months prior flooded his mind all at once.

He shouted at the top of his lungs. "M-MAGIC MAN!"

His hand immediately found the dagger sticking into the top of the end table. He sprang from his recline and stood on the bed. He eyes were locked on Nfirea's hand's. "G-GET BACK!"

"N-No, Look it's okay see." Nfirea stopped his spell and his hands went dark, he took a step foward to show that he was friendly.

"I SAID GET BACK!" Stockwell lashed out with the dagger. It was sloppily frantic slash that left a deep cut in Nfirea's left palm.

Nfirea winced in pain and clutched his bleeding hand.

"Enfi!" Enri rushed to Nfirea's side and tried to examine his hands.

"Never mind me, look."

Stockwell was standing on the bed and clutching his head, dagger still in hand. His eyes were filled with insanity and he was talking in gibberish.

He sprang from the bed and shot directly for the door, completely ignoring the two strangers who were currently crouched on the ground.

"Hey, is everyone alright in here?" A goblin appeared in the doorway.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Stockwell ran towards him while frantically slashing his dagger at the air.

"What the-!?" the surprised goblin narrowly avoided the slashes and Stockwell charged passed him and out the doorway.

The goblin looked at Enri's and Nfirea's crouching forms and he realized Nfirea was injured.

"Why I oughta..." He grabbed the hilt of his sword and turned to pursue the madman.

"Wait! Jugem-san, let him go." She turned back to Nfirea who was still clutching his hand. She softened her tone. "Let him go. Enfi is more important."

Jugem lost whatever will he had to pursue the madman when he saw the concerned look in Enri's eyes. He leaned out the doorway and saw the madman running towards the village gate while swinging the dagger randomly through the air. The guards on the wall were already training their bows on him.

They saw Jugem from the doorway and he signalled to them to let the man flee. The obeyed and opened the wooden gate.

Stockwell charged through the gate and over the grassy crest beyond.

Jugem walked back to the two people in the room.

"Let me see."

Nfirea stuck out his hand and opened his palm. There was a large bleeding gash all the way across it.

"You'll live, kid."

Nfirea winced again as he forced a chuckle. "I'm a man after all, right?"

This elicited a hearty laugh from Jugem and he wrapped his arm around his neck and noogied him. "That's the stuff!"

Enri still held a look of concern in her eyes however. "Didn't you say that the potion you gave him would cure his insanity?"

Nfirea walked to the end table and opened the cabinet, he pulled out some bandages and began to wrap his hand up.

He shook his head sheepishly. "The potion I gave him will still take a little bit of time to fully activate now that he's awake, and even then, it will really only half cure his insanity."

"What do you mean?"

"All the potion does is calm the patient down and forces them back into reality so that they can function normally. It won't actually erase any of the memories or trauma that caused the insanity in the first place."

He looked at the open doorway. "He's permanently scarred in more ways than one."

...

A young child sat enthralled on the edge of the futon. His eyes were glued to the ant farm sitting on the dresser in front of him. There was a woman calling to him from the other room.

"Wesley! Wesley dear! The food is ready!"

"Hold on mom!"

He was enamored by all the little bugs roaming about and foraging for food. He didn't get to see bugs too often and it fascinated him.

There was a T.V. droning mindlessly on the other side of the room. On the screen was a female reporter standing in front of images of fire and people rioting.

" _This moment marks an unprecedented point in history. Greenland is now in the process of transferring all government control over to the central conglomerate. Once the process is completed, every country in the world will be under the corporatocracy. The glorious goal started by the organizers of the great revitalization of 2081, will finally see its completion only sixteen years later."_

The screen changed from the rioting people to several charts and graphs with numbers on them. The reporter took out a baton and began pointing at them.

" _Once the unification of the world is achieved, Sylv .Co will take over resource management of Greenland and begin production of type II fusion reactors. Stock values are predicted to nearly double."_

"Wesley! Your food ready! Come and get it or I might just eat it for myself!"

"Okay! Coming!"

Wesley got up from the futon and made his way into the other room

" _On to further news, it is expected that this will be the last year you will be able to see the great monarch butterfly migration, so our sponsors would like to remind you to buy..."_

Their apartment was only two rooms: A kitchen/dining room, and a bedroom/play room. It wasn't very big or spectacular, but only two people lived there, so it wasn't too bad compared to the millions of people who were forced to freeze to death out on the streets.

He pulled out the chair out from underneath the table and jumped up onto it. He saw his mother bending bending down to get something out of the oven. She was wearing an apron embroidered with macaroni art and her flowing raven hair was tied up into a bun behind her head. Wesley picked up the plastic silverware on the table and licked his lips in anticipation because today was October 10th, his birthday.

She turned around and revealed to be holding a small cake. She smiled and placed it on the table in front of Wesley, it was small enough to be completely encircled in his little hands.

"I'm afraid we won't have frosting this year... But I guess you don't seem to mind."

She smiled once more as she watched Wesley already voraciously digging into the little cake. He ate the entire thing in a matter of seconds.

"Now what do we say dear?"

Wesley blushed as he wiped the crumbs from his face. "T-Thank you."

"That's correct dear." She leaned over and ruffled his short brown hair.

"Do you know how old you are now?"

Wesley perked up in his chair and smiled proudly. "I'm six years old!"

She smiled and placed her elbow on the table. She leaned her head on it and looked out the tiny window of their appartment. "Yes, that's right, you're all grown up now, I wish your father could've been here to see us."

"But dad is working right?"

"Yes, yes he is. He's working, always working, so don't you forget that Wesley. Now go get ready for bed."

"Okay…" Wesley drooped his head and made his way back into the other room.

She watched his cute little back exit the room. Her gaze shifted to the picture of her husband hanging on the wall. In it was a man with sharp, wolfish features, and a head of magnificent umber hair.

Next to the picture was an urn sitting on the edge of the counter. It was labeled "Samuel H. Stockwell"

She heard Wesley's cute grunting as he busily got changed in the other room. She began to desperately fight back tears.

"I wish you could've been here to see him, dear."

Her stomach rumbled since she hadn't had anything to eat that day.

...

A professor with a white lab coat was sitting at his desk reading a letter. He had frizzy white hair and a thick pair of glasses, he had look of concern on his face. Standing in front of him was a young adult with a head of magnificent umber hair.

"Wesley, my boy. Why are you dropping out? You're so talented. And you still have that innocent curiosity that so many of us have lost. I'm sure that if you got your degree there would be loads of companies competing to hire you."

Wesley looked down and shook his head. "I just simply can't pay the tuition anymore. And as much as I love science, there are just some things that are more important."

"But I'm sure there are scholarships out there if you-"

"I'm sorry doc., I've already looked into it and I'm already too busy at work. I just don't have the time anymore."

The professor stood up and took off his glasses, "I see."

He shakily outstretched his hand. "Then, I wish you luck, Mr. Stockwell."

Stockwell shook his hand firmly. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, I won't forget what you've taught me."

After saying his final goodbyes, Stockwell exited the university and drove home. The skies of 2112 were already filling with smog and forming their iconic greycolor, of which they would remain that way for a very long time.

He exited his car and went up to his apartment. It was the same apartment that he had been living in with his mother for over 21 years. He unlocked the door and walked in.

"Mom! I'm home early!"

He found his mom lying face first on the dining room table. She was incredibly skinny and her skin was sickly pale.

"Mom!"

He ran up to her and lifter her head. "Mom! What's wrong?"

Her voice was incredibly quiet, "Oh, Wesley, you're home early, don't you have college today?"

Wesley was getting panicked by his mother's weak appearance. "N-No, I dropped out so I could-"

"Can you speak louder dear? I'm having trouble hearing you, I was working all night last night so I'm a little bit tired."

"Wait, no mom, you don't understand, I told you didn't have to work anymore, I've been working on the side so-"

"Look dear, I even managed to save enough for your next semester." She forced her hand up, it was just skin and bone. She pointed to the sealed envelope on the table.

"College is important dear. You're so smart. I know you're going to get hired by some big company and make lots of money, I know your father would've been proud-"

"Mom!" Stockwell was fighting back tears.

"Mom, I dropped out so you wouldn't have to work anymore. Mom, you're going to die if you keep working like this, that company treats you like a slave, your body is too weak."

"I know your father would've been proud..."

She began to slowly close her eyes.

"Mom! Mom! No! Don't go! Open your eyes!"

"I'm just going to take a little nap dear…"

"No! Mom! Don't!"

She drew her last breath. She had died with a smile on her face, knowing that she had been of some use to her son.

...

Stockwell had converted the dining room of his apartment into a laboratory. His hands moved with ferocity as he mixed various chemicals in flasks.

"It's all their fault. I'm going to kill them all."

Hanging on the wall behind him was a picture of his father and a picture of his mother. Next to them were a pair of urns labeled "Samuel H. Stockwell" and "Elizabeth J. Stockwell".

Hanging on the wall in front of him was poster with several faces on it. There was a red circle around each face.

"All of you business owners and your disgusting negligence for ergonomics. All of you are going to freeze to death out on the streets once I'm done with you. I only need a little more time now."

He siphoned a sticky black liquid out of one of his flasks into a test tube. He opened a hatch on a small black box sitting on his workbench and placed the test tube inside. The box was labeled, "Fusion Reactor type III beta".

His face turned into a demented grin, one that suggested that he was going insane. The box made a soft ding and he opened the hatch.

"Those of you who sit on your golden thrones, those of you who were born with wealth and power and think you are untouchable. I will claw my way up to you and beat you down. Those of you who fall victim to hubris, I am your Nemesis."

...

A congregation of people stood clustered around the door of a large building. Many of them were holding microphones and news cameras. Everyone had face masks on due to the air quality, but that was only to be expected.

A female news caster stood near the center. "I'm here outside the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences in Stockholm, where inventor and entrepreneur Wesley A. Stockwell has just been awarded the Nobel Prize in chemistry for his work with Asimovium. For all of you viewers at home who are unaware, Asimovium is the element that is in all of your type IV fusion reactors, and it is the only super heavy element that is known to be stable."

The crowd began to cheer and the door to the building opened. Stepping out was a man with sharp facial features and graying hair, he was wearing an expensive looking suit and shoes and walked with an unreal elegance, he was flanked by a pair of bodyguards.

"And speak of the devil, here he is now, let's see if we can get a few words with him."

The reporter ran up up to the man and her cameraman ran after her. She pushed her way through the crowd and made it to the walkway.

"Mr. Stockwell! Mr. Stockwell! Can we get a few words with you?"

One of the body guards put his hands up and pushed her back, "Don't come any closer-"

"It's okay, I have time to answer a few questions." Stockwell's face was the perfect image of an elegant businessman. He was handsome and his tone was calm.

"Understood sir."

The guard let the reporter and cameraman pass.

"T-Thank you Mr. Stockwell."

"Not at all, please, ask away."

"Y-Yes. The value of Asimovium continues to grow, and it's estimated that your net worth is approaching $270 Billion, and Stockwell Industries continues to get more and more successful under the corporatocracy. So many of the viewers at home are wondering, just what is it that you plan to do from here?"

Stockwell's face transformed into an insane grin. "I plan to kill my competitors."

"E-Excuse me?"

Stockwell regained the perfect facade of the business man. "Pardon me, allow me to rephrase that statement. I plan to buy out many of the businesses currently left in America . I'm in the process of buying Sylv .Co as we speak."

Normally, declaring such an aggressive business proposal would be frowned upon in modern society, but such things were normal under the corporatocracy of 2129. The reporter nodded and moved on to the next question.

"Earlier this week, it was confirmed that Mr. Clarke of Clarke enterprises died from a drug overdose out on the streets. It was understood that he was a good friend of yours before you took over his business. What are your thoughts on this?"

Stockwell maintained his perfect facade, even though he smirking internally. "It truly is a shame to see someone who was born into great wealth and power die out in such an undignified way. My heart goes out to his remaining family members."

The reporter nodded and continued. "There was a rumor going around recently concerning the death of your mother-

"I'm going to have to stop you there ma'am, It seems that's all the time I have for today, if you'll excuse me."

"O-Of course."

The reporter got out of his way and Stockwell continued down the walkway.

...

Stockwell dragged himself through the lobby of the Wesley tower. He was greeted by a perky secretary. "Good evening Wesley sir, normally this is where I would tease you about having a thousand missed calls, but it seems that the phone has been mostly quiet after you bought out Europe."

Stockwell yawned as he made his way to the elevator. He talked in a tired and unconcerned voice, "That's great Anne. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to sleep for the next hundred years, so don't wake me up unless it's an emergency. Oh, and thanks for your hard work, remind me to give you a raise when I wake up."

The secretary giggled as she saw her boss disappear behind the elevator. "I'll be dead by then silly."

Stockwell nodded off as he watched the little light on the elevator's interface climb up the diagram of the tower.

The door opened and he stumbled out into his suite. He dragged himself into his tastelessly opulent bed and turned to look at the calendar.

"2138, huh. Time really does fly. Now that Herbert Industries is no more, my revenge is complete. Strange, I thought I would feel a bit happier, oh well, I guess I stopped caring about revenge a long time ago."

He turned the lights off and snuggled underneath the covers. "Maybe I'll announce my retirement in the morning and travel the world, or what's left of it that is."

He was tired and fell asleep quickly. However, he ended up traveling sooner than expected, and much further away. Because at some point during the night, he had been abducted by a group of cultists.

...

Stockwell didn't know how long he had been running for, hours? Days? He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care. He had long since forgotten what it meant to have a goal or purpose in life.

His bandages were covered in dirt and his dagger bounced loosely in the loop of his trousers. He had already exceeded the limits of his body hours ago, and he finally collapsed to the ground, exhausted.

He laid there on his side, staring at surface of the dirt road underneath his cheek. He noticed that ants were busily foraging for food.

A familiar feeling warmed him while he eavesdropped on the microcosm of life below him, and once again he mused, "How busy they are, never a day off. Don't you guys know that working like that will kill you?". He enjoyed that melancholy feeling one gets when parts of their brain untouched for 40 years fire up.

After a long time, he lazily closed his eyes and organized his thoughts. Something inside of him had been forcing him to keep calm and accept reality.

His memories played out in his mind like roll of film. He remembered how he had been summoned into a magical fantasy world, how he had been brutally tortured for information he didn't have, and how he had killed all the cultists using chlorine gas. He remembered Vera's beautiful face and her mismatched eyes. He remembered Aamon and how he had gotten his revenge. He remembered the night sky after he had seen after finally escaped the crypt. And finally, he remembered his entire life that had ultimately lead him to this point, lying on the ground without a cent to his name.

After an even longer time, he rolled on his back and opened his eyes. He gazed at the alien blue sky above him. He sighed and incredibly long sigh.

It was filled with an impossibly profound tiredness, a kind of tiredness that only came after one had realized that they had done all they could, and that there was nothing left for them to do.

He let clarity wash over him as he felt the unfamiliar warmth of the sun on his skin and listened to the unfamiliar sound of wind blowing through fields of grass.

Supine on the dirt road and awash with indifference, he no longer felt any drive to anything at all. He simply awaited for whatever it was that god would decide to throw at him, be it a long and agonizing death or a short and merciful one.

Instead, it seemed that god had decided to throw him a rope..

"Hey! Are you alright mister?"

A young boy was leaning over him and blocking his view of the sky.

He looked to be no older than 17. He had unruly black hair and apple-green eyes . His skin was dark and it had been tanned to the point where it was obvious he had spent a lot of his life working under the sun. His unspectacular clothes showed that he was just a simple village boy, and there was dirty white bandana tied around his neck.

His eyes were filled with child-like curiosity. "Hey! Mister! Can you hear me? You're lying in the middle of the road. Are you okay? Do you need a ride?"

Stockwell ignored the boy's words and simply looked into his eyes. After many moments, he began to laugh with a profound sense of defeat. "Hehe, give me a break…"

It seemed to him that god was mocking him once more by sending him another chance at life.

And not only did he laugh with defeat because of the boy's arrival, but also because he was looking at his reflection in the boy's eyes. He stared at his own face, It was the first time he had seen it in over five months. It was beaten and bruised, but it was still unmistakably his. There wasn't a soul on earth who wouldn't have recognized it. It was the face of Wesley Asimov Stockwell, CEO of Stockwell Industries and Nobel Laureate. It was the face of the man who had everything taken from him, and had thus taken the entire world in response.

He continued to laugh at the absurdity of it all. At how the Wesley Asimov Stockwell had ended it up in such a pathetic state. He shook his head grandly, as if shaking off all the terrors of his past, deciding it was time to move on.

For the time being, he had found clarity.

He smiled as a peculiar and fanciful idea came over him. "Hehe, surely conquering the world would be impossible, but then again, I did do it once before…"

"Are you okay mister-"

"You asked if I needed a ride, boy?"

His sudden reply startled the boy, "H-Hai."

The boy gestured to the horse drawn wagon behind him. It looked to filled with foodstuffs and supplies. "I've got room in the back if you-"

"Very well then. Thank you for your kindness my boy. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along."

The boy stood stupefied as Stockwell suddenly sprang to his feet and started walking towards the cart. It was like he was staring at the back of a completely different man than the one he had just seen laying on the ground.

"Hai…"

As the boy turned to follow the stranger, he stopped and his eyes grew wide. The stranger's back had transformed into that of a mighty king's. His bandages had morphed into regal flowing robes and his limp had transformed into a gallant stride. A crown had appeared atop his head and he commanded the presence of an unconquerable ruler, a presence that could grab the entire world by the throat.

"...Amazing…"

He realised he was staring. He shook the image out of his head and chased after him. "W-Wait, you didn't even ask where we were going."

"The destination hardly matters, now hurry it up my boy, I've been running for a very long time and my legs are killing me."

"H-Hai!"

Stockwell got into the back of the cart and the boy clambered onto the driver's seat after him.


	4. A Boy and His Village

Stockwell yawned and he shook the sleep from his eyes. The back of the wagon underneath him rumbled softly while the goods and supplies jostled lightly with the contour of the road. The sun was high in the sky and it's summer breezes rustled through verdant green.

He recalled how he would often fall asleep in the back seat of his mother's car. How the slight changes in the car's acceleration pulled him into the cushion of his seat, how the soft rumble of the road underneath massaged his head and drowned out the noise in his mind, how he was calmed by knowing that his mother would undoubtedly bring him home safely. It was the kind of feeling that belonged to all of us, while still remaining uniquely personal. It made him wonder how the doldrums of delirium could even exist on the same planet where such a feeling flourished.

He sat up and stretched grandly, taking in the peaceful atmosphere. He was wearing a simple peasant's outfit that the boy had given him. He smirked as a word appeared in his head that he had never actually gotten to use over the course of his life.

"...Well isn't this bucolic..."

The boy he had been traveling with for the last day and a half took a glance at the back of his wagon having noticed the commotion.

"Ah, You're awake, Mr. Stockwell."

"It seems I am *yawn*, where are we, Niven my boy?"

The boy named Niven looked up like he was doing mental math. "Hmmm… I think we're almost to my village, we should be at least. We're located directly south of E-Pespel, pretty much right on the border of the Theocracy. I left E-Rantel going west about four days ago soooo….yeah, we should almost be to Moot Village."

Stockwell nodded his head lazily in half comprehension. He had asked Niven earlier about the general geography and demographics of the Kingdom and the surrounding nations, but he had been sleeping for most of their journey so far and didn't really get the chance to get too much information.

"We haven't talked very much my boy. Why don't you tell me a little bit about this village you're so proud of?"

Niven grinned like a child showing off his favourite toy. "Moot village is really cool and it's filled with lots really of nice people. We're built on the edge of this big beautiful lake, and we're surrounded by all these big, green, steeply sloping hills. Theres also this really cool rock formation on the other side of the lake as well. The whole place is super duper pretty. I'm sure that you'll love it!"

Niven's grin died down and he drooped at the reins. "But, well…"

"Yes?"

"But to tell you the truth Mr. Stockwell, we've been having some really bad times recently." His shoulders visually drooped as he said this.

"How so, my boy?"

"Well, we've always managed to get by so far, but ever since the nobles have been getting more and more power, we've been getting taxed more and more. Many of us have a hard time getting food as it, and if this keeps up, I don't think we're going to survive for very much longer. Once what little stockpile we have left runs out, our only options will be to either abandon the village or starve."

Niven looked down in a defeated manner, it was clear that he cared for his village very much. They drove like that for a while while Stockwell thought.

"But you said you were on a lake right?"

"Huh, what? Oh, yes, that's right. Why do ask?"

"Well then it seems to me that you would have no trouble at all growing food. You would have a excellent source of water for irrigation."

Niven simply shook his head. "You might think that at first, Mr. Stockwell, but the water in the lake is actually too toxic to irrigate with."

"Toxic?"

"Mhmm, too toxic, the villagers say that the water's been cursed by demons, we have to get all our drinking water from a well outside the village. Fragile stuff like fruits and vegetables wither away. We can only grow tougher crops like things like oats and potatoes, so we end up having to buy fruits and vegetables in the city so that we can still get all our nutrients. Which of course is still fine since we can always just sell our surplus, but the problem is of course that since we've been getting hammered by taxes, we have less and less extra money to buy the types of foods we need in order to actually survive."

Stockwell simply sat in thought, _Wow, that really is quite the pickle, I wonder what it really is that's making their water toxic._

"But we still have hope though."

"Huh?"

"We still have hope though, because we're one of the only villages around that happens to have our very own blacksmith."

"Blacksmith?"

"Yes, blacksmith."

Niven puffed his chest out with pride. "We have one of the best blacksmith's in the whole kingdom. He thinks that we can save the village if we can manage to sell some of his arms. The whole reason I went to E-Rantel in the first place was to pick up materials for him."

Niven gestured to the crates in the back of the wagon that were jostling lightly next to Stockwell.

He grinned like a child once more, "And get this Mr. Stockwell, some of the materials he asked for have been magically enchanted!"

"Magically enchanted?"

"I know right! I just wonder as to what kinds of amazing weapons he's planning on making. Magic really is amazing, I've always been trying to figure out how it works."

 _That's right, I almost forgot that magic is just an accepted rule of this world. If I'm to be living in this world from now on, then maybe I should try to track down that Vera woman-_

"But the villagers don't like it when I do that." Niven interrupted his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"All the villagers are really nice, and they teach me all kinds of useful things. But I've always liked investigating the true causes of things, like why is it that magic works the way it does, and what is it that's really making the water toxic. They say that kind of thinking will get be possessed by demons, but i can't help myself."

 _Oh? I'm starting to get the picture here. It's like how medieval society has always discouraged science and free thinking._

"So then tell me Niven boy, just what other things have you 'investigated the true causes of'? I'm Interested to hear."

"...!"

Niven's face formed a huge grin. Immeasurably happy that someone was finally willing to listen to his crazy theories.

"H-Hai! Where do I even start? Well, one thing that's been crossing my mind recently is trying to figure out what stuff is made out of. Like what would happen if you kept trying to break a stick in half, when would you stop being able to break it? Surely there must be a limit right? There must be some kind of particle that can no longer be broken in half, no matter what!"

 _Awww, I think I know where his mind is headed._

"That sounds very interesting, my boy, please go on."

Niven was smiling uncontrollably now, tempted on by Stockwell's prompt.

"Yes! So what if this particle is what everything is made out of, and everything is made out of different type of particles? Like sticks are made of of stick particles! And water is made out of water particles!"

 _Hehe, I'm impressed. He's straight up talking about atoms and compounds. And he's theorized about this all on his own._

Niven continued on for a long time in utter elation about all of his other wacky theories about the world. And while most of them were wrong, they all shined of an innocent and gifted curiosity.

 _Without any proper schooling, he's already cultivated his own curiosity and scientific mind. This boy is a natural born scientist. He might even give my crazy old professor a run for his money._

Stockwell stared at Niven's back. He was wearing humble clothing, his arms were darkly tanned and nicely toned, his unruly black hair bounced joyfully as he talked enthusiastically about his ideas. As Stockwell was watching the young scientist so happily recount is theories, it stirred an interesting feeling inside of him, one that he had never experienced before.

 _I wonder what it would be like to have an apprentice…_

"-And yeah! So what if the sun was actually just really big, but it was also super far away, like thousands of miles so that-!"

"Niven my boy…" Niven was talking to loudly and didn't hear him.

"And because it would be so hot, we could still get-"

"Niven, my boy, do you want-"

Niven was still talking too loudly and couldn't hear him.

"And that would be how- Oh, wait, it looks like we're here."

Niven stopped his passionate orating and turned back to Stockwell.

"What? Oh, no, don't mind me." Stockwell looked down and away. Niven had been shining like a sun in his eyes. He would try to ask again later.

"Anyways, we're here. Moot Village is just over this crest."

Stockwell stood up on his knees and got to the front of the wagon so he could get a better view. The wagon passed over the crest and just like Niven said, Moot Village was indeed beautiful.

It was like he was looking down into a massive grassy bowl. At its center was a big blue lake, and on one of its banks was a small cluster of houses. Past behind the village where the steeply sloping edges of the bowl calmed down were fields of what he assumed were oats.

Opposite the village on the other side of the lake was the rock formation that Niven must have mentioned earlier. Stockwell immediately knew what it was.

 _Oh I see, that's a natural sulfur deposit created by geothermal activity._

On the other side of the lake was a desolate moonscape of yellow land. He could see plumes of yellow ash occasionally rise from vents in the ground. It almost looked like a giant had come to piss in the lake and missed, it's urine drying into a crusty yellow blight.

 _Well, now this is all making sense. There village must be built inside a volcanic caldera. The volcano must be dormant but the underlying geothermal activity is still bringing sulfur and hydrogen sulfide to the surface. No wonder the lake water is toxic, it must be riddled with sulphates and dilute sulphurous acid._

Stockwell enjoyed the ride down the hill into the village, and even though he knew the water in the lake would be hell to drink, he couldn't get over its beauty.

Niven parked the wagon outside one of the buildings which must have been the blacksmith, because he asked him if he could give him a hand in unloading the crates. They were heavy, but Stockwell had healed enough to lift them.

Niven wiped his hands after placing the final crate outside. "We can just leave them here, Mr. Faber will come out and collect them later. Let's go back to my place. I live with my grandfather who also happens to be the chief here, so we might be able to get a place for you to stay if I put in a good word for you."

Niven got back in the driver's seat and they continued through the tiny village. The villagers were friendly like Niven said, having received a few polite hellos, but it was also true that everyone was walking around with a somewhat solemn expression. It was clear that that the village really was experiencing some harsh times.

They arrived at the chief's house and Niven parked the wagon.

"I'm going to go in and talk to the chief about finding you a place to stay. You can wait out here."

Stockwell nodded and Niven went inside. He sat in the wagon for a while and waited, but he realised that Niven was taking quite a while to come back out, so he crept up to the door and eavesdropped on the conversation happening inside.

It was a little hard to hear, but he was able to make out Niven talking to someone with an incredibly scruffy voice.

"...But grandpa, he has nowhere else to go, we can't just leave him!"

"No buts Niven, you know as well as I do that we can't afford to take him in. We already have too many mouths to feed."

"But-"

"Niven, you already know the situation we're in, we can't grow fruits and vegetables so we have no choice but to buy them. We can't afford to waste what little resources we have on someone you picked up on the side of the road-"

"I believe I can help solve your little problem."

Niven and the scruffy looking chief turned to see Stockwell standing in the open doorway.

"What?"

"Like I said, I can help solve your water problem."

The chief looked at him in disbelief. He probably assumed that Stockwell was a magic caster who was saying that he could purify the lake. "Humph! That's what all those mages and priests say but it never works, magic is useless against the curse on the lake's water."

Stockwell put his hand on his chest like he was a little offended. "Please, don't compare me to those awful magicians. I'm a scientist, I would never use something as dishonest as magic."

"You're a what now?"

"I'm a scientist. From your perspective, it would appear as though I'm using a very special type of magic, but I assure you, what I do is very simple, and it's something that anyone can do."

The chief looked at him in silent confusion.

"How about this then. If I can solve your water problem, you give me a place to stay, and if I can't, the by all means feel free to kick me out. Either way you have nothing to lose."

The chief looked at the stranger a little while longer. "Humph! Fine, do what you want."

Stockwell smiled and gave a polite bow. "In that case, I'm going to need a little bit of manpower."

...

Niven led a small caravan of roughly a dozen men wielding buckets and pickaxes along a rough trail. Stockwell was walking directly behind him.

"I'm surprised the chief was willing to give us this much man power."

"Well, even though my grandfather seems like a mean person on the outside, he really is a nice guy who cares about his village and he's been getting desperate, I imagine he's willing to try just about anything at this point. And also because harvest is low this year and there are a lot of men with free time."

Niven took in his surroundings and continued down the trail, "I think the white rock is down this way. So, what really is your plan then? You said you need it for a special type of magic?"

"Yes, but first I think it needs to be said that you really are a smart kid, my boy."

"What do you mean?"

"Your theory about how there is a smallest common denominator, how there is a smallest possible particle that everything is made from, you were correct."

"What!?" Niven stopped his stride for a second out of shock, but quickly continued since he was on a mission. He was simply just so surprised that someone had actually confirmed one of his theories.

"Yes, the particles you're talking about have a name, they're called atoms, and they really do make up everything. There are 92 different types of them that occur naturally, and everything you see is made up of them."

"Wait what!? Really!?"

"Yes, it's true. In fact there is a whole field of study that concerns how atoms interact with each other to form larger things known as compounds and how even those react with each other to make everything as we know it. It's a type of science called chemistry."

Niven was shaking uncontrollably. He was filled with awe and wonder as he looked at the world around him. "Science!? Chemistry!? Please, Mr. Stockwell! Teach me!"

Niven stopped his stride and turned and collapsed to the ground in dogeza. "Please! Mr. Stockwell! I want to know!"

The dozen or so men behind them were catching up with them. "Woah, relax my boy. I planned to teach you regardless. In fact, this whole exercise in cleaning the water involves chemistry. So why don't you get up and continue leading us."

Niven got up and marched on shakily excited legs "Hai!"

 _Wow, this kid is unbelievably enthusiastic about learning science._ Stockwell smiled as he watched Niven's back. _Then again, all young scientists are like that._ He felt a warm feeling come over him.

Stockwell confirmed that the men behind them were still following them and continued. "So like I was saying, we're going to be cleaning the water using chemistry. From the way you described it, I have no doubt that what you're leading us towards is limestone, which is mostly made of calcium carbonate.

Calcium carbonate is a compound made from the atoms I was talking about earlier. Calcium is a type of atom, and carbonate is a combination of a carbon atom and three oxygen atoms. What we're going to do is smelt it down into a substance known as calcium oxide, which is also known more simply as quicklime."

He could only see the back of Niven's head, but he could tell he was listening incredibly closely. "Is that why you're having some of the men construct that kiln back at the village?"

"Yes exactly. You see my boy, the stuff that is causing your water to be toxic is not some demon's curse, but the material known as sulphate, which is also a type of compound. What it normally does is bond to other kinds of atoms in your water to form what's known as a salt. These salts are dissolved in your water and absorbed into the bodies of plants and humans and that's what makes it toxic."

Niven was listening intently but stopped when he saw the scenery ahead of him. "Ah, we're here."

"It seems we are."

Ahead of them was a barren patch of land with exposed whitish stone coming out of the ground. "Alright then my boy, let's gather as much limestone as we can. And I'll explain what we're going to do on the way back."

"Hai!"

...

"Nice job on the lime kiln, Mr. Faber, I didn't expect you and your men to build it this quickly."

Stockwell and the blacksmith named Faber stood off to the side as they watched Niven and the other men throw limestone and coal into a large brick kiln. There was smoke and fire rising out of it.

Faber was about the same age as Stockwell, but his hair was still black unlike Stockwell's grey-umber. And his face was just as muscular as the rest of his body.

"Once you described it, it was easy. All it is is just a big ol' bloomery. So are you really going to do it then?"

"Do what?"

"Clean the water. I've seen countless priests from the city come and try to clean it but they always fail. I've never seen something like this before so I'm wondering how sure you are that its going to work."

"Well, I've never done this before personally, but the chemistry is simple enough. I don't see why this wouldn't work."

"Is that so…" Faber didn't fully understand the word "chemistry", he thought that maybe it was some kind of alchemy, but he didn't pry further.

"Then let's get started."

Stockwell walked to the lime kiln and the men got out of his way. They watched as he knelt down and opened the hatch on draw hole. He took a shovel from one of the men and shoveled out the whitish powder from the bottom and into a big wooden bucket, luckily it was cool enough that it didn't burn through it.

He picked up the bucket and walked to the irrigation reservoir that was dug out from the lake. It was about the size of a large chakuzi, but the irrigation channels were blocked off, they had probably dug them in the first place in the hopes that someone would finally be able to clean their water.

"Niven my boy, could you grab another bucket for me?"

Niven who had been standing behind him and watching intently perked up. "Hai!"

He grabbed another bucket that was sitting next to the kiln. He handed it to Stockwell.

"Thankyou, now watch closely everyone. Niven, go ahead and take a drink from the reservoir, it's okay, you can spit it out if you want to."

"Hai."

Everyone watched as Niven scooped a handful of water out of the reservoir and brought it to his lips, and unsurprisingly, he immediately spit it out with a disgusted face.

"*pleh* Yup, that is definitely toxic."

Stockwell nodded and everyone watched closely as he filled the empty bucket with water from the reservoir. He took a handful of the quicklime in the other bucket and dumped it in.

"Now all we have to do is mix it in an wait a while." Stockwell began to stir it in with his bare hand. He could clearly feel that the water was mildly acidic and he was glad he hadn't tried to drink it earlier.

"To put this in a way you would understand gentlemen, the quicklime is replacing all the bad stuff in the water and it's all sinking to the bottom."

He tipped the bucket and showed it around to everyone so that they could see the white powder falling to the bottom. They weren't very impressed.

"Couldn't that just be the stuff you just threw in there though?"

"It might look that way gentlemen, but watch this."

He handed the bucket to Niven. _They won't trust me if I'm the one who drinks it. They might just think I'm faking it._

"Well then boy, want to try? Be careful though, it'll be a bit bitter."

"Of course!"

Niven brought the bucket to his lips.

The villagers shuffled, "Wait don't-"

He took one large swig and just as Stockwell said, it was incredibly bitter. Niven's face contorted slightly, however…

He held it in and swallowed.

The villagers began to murmur and their eyes were growing wide, "...He didn't spit it out... is it really clean?...what was that powder…"

Niven exhaled in the manner one does after having drunk a refreshing beverage. He wiped the water from his mouth.

He smiled a huge childish grin. "That wasn't that bad."

The villagers were stunned as they looked at the boy's smiling face. When suddenly-

"WOOOOOOOOO! YEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!"

The villagers exploded into cheers as the all crowded around Niven to take swigs from the bucket.

"Hey! It really isn't that bad!"

"Wow! It really is clean!"

"Hahaha! It's a bit bitter, but I can handle it!"

Stockwell stepped in, "While I don't suggest drinking it right now because there is quite a bit of lime and it's really bitter, it shouldn't make you that sick, and as such, it's perfectly safe to irrigate with."

The villagers weren't paying him much attention and continued to crowd around the bucket in merriment. A strange feeling came over Stockwell as he watched the villagers and he smiled.

 _Well, I guess I really did do something good with my life for once._

Niven ran up to him and started pulling on his arm, "So how did you do it? How did that work!?" He was grinning madly while he awaited his chemistry lesson.

Stockwell smiled, "As I said my boy, the reason the lake water is toxic is because of the things called sulphates. When we added the calcium oxide into the water, we ended up creating calcium hydroxide. The calcium hydroxide then went on to react with the sulphates in the water to create calcium sulphate, which is considerably less soluble and thus, most of it fell out solution and piled onto the bottom."

Niven stared up into his eyes with a look of wonder.

"I don't get it!"

He had said it with such innocent passion.

"Hahahahahaha!" Stockwell laughed heartily and throttled the boy.

"That's quite alright my boy! You'll learn in time!"

They laughed together all through the night. The villagers partied and feasted, and there was much song and drink. They splurged on the last of their stockpiles, because now they knew that they would have clean water to grow the things they needed.

At some point during the night, the chief and villagers had gathered to formally thank Stockwell. They got on their hands and knees and prayed that their savior would stay with them, and he gladly accepted.

And that was how Moot Village came to have their very own resident scientist. And it was also how Moot Village had become the very first step in the scientist's plan for world conquest.

* * *

 **Name:** Niven Endle

 **Epithet:** Natural Born Scientist

 **Birthday:** Middle Wind Month, 21st Day

 **Residence:** Moot Village

 **Racial Level: Total:** N/A

Human: N/A

 **Job Level: Total:** N/A

Scientist: 1

Farmer: N/A

Other: N/A

 **Stats: Total:** N/A


	5. Rhamnusia

It had been several weeks since Stockwell joined the ranks of Moot village. He did not sit around like a wise sage like many of the villagers expected, but rather he ran around all over the place building and collecting all kind of things. He had taken the chief's grandson, Niven, as an apprentice and he had him learning all sorts of strange knowledge. They were always busy with something.

The blacksmith, Mr. Faber, rounded the corner behind his workshop. He and Stockwell along with many of the men had been building something that Stockwell had called a "Bessemer Converter" over the last several days. Supposedly they had finished it that morning and after finishing his side project for Stockwell, he had come over to see it in action.

"Mr. Stockwell sir, I finished that project-"

"If you piss-lickin'-snollygoster's were any more dense we'd be using you to make a suit of armor! Now get a move on!"

"Hai!"

Stockwell stood atop a platform barking orders at the villagers working the make shift outdoor foundry. The moment Mr. Faber had rounded the corner he was blasted by hot air.

The place was a maze of messy scaffolding. Pulleys and weights hung about in a guess work of trapezes. Rivers of glowing molten metal crisscrossed between scaffolds and splashed into molds as workers desperately tried to control the flow. Grown men drenched in sweat threw themselves on massive bellows that seemed to suck the scorching air out their very lungs. At the center of the complex was the "Bessemer Converter", a massive, misshapen metal egg with a hole at the top that showered the workers with glowing red sparks. Big muscled men draped in thick leather garments perilously followed Stockwell's orders as they worked the pulleys and cranks that controlled the tilt of the converter.

"Blow out those impurities like you mean it you milk-drinking, three-suited, lily-livered cowards! We need more air! MORE AIR!"

"H-Hai!"

The men at the bellows squeezed like their lives depended on it. Every squeeze of the massive bellows elicited an eruption of sweltering crimson sparks from the metal egg that showered the workers in metal.

"Niven! Is that goddamn spiegeleisen ready yet!?"

Niven was crouched over a smaller furnace off to the side.

"No master! Just a little longer!"

"Then hurry it up my boy!"

Stockwell glared at the workers desperately trying to control the flow of molten metal filling up the molds.

"You! You there on the left, you're on fire!"

"Thank you Stockwell sir!"

"No you idiot, I mean you're actually on fire!"

The worker looked down and saw that his leg was erupting into flames. He dropped to the ground and began rolling.

"I swear! Stop playing with that draw port like you're fingering a dick hole you shit-cicled cunts!"

"Yes! Mr. Stockwell sir!"

 _Well he certainly knows how to motivate the men._

"M-Master! The spiegeleisen is ready!"

"Then get to it boy!"

"Hai!" Niven hauled a bucket of molten metal up and across the scaffolds so he stood over the converter.

"Tip the converter to first position!"

"Hai!"

The men at the cranks and pulleys turned the giant metal egg so that the hole was pointing straight up. Niven tossed the molten metal in.

"That's the stuff boy! Now be careful getting down from there!"

"Hai!" Niven braced himself as he was showered in scorching metal sparks.

Stockwell sighed in relief now the last of their iron ore was finally almost done being converted into steel.

"Alright you sons of bitches! Master this process and you'll all be filthy rich by next winter!"

"Yes! Mr. Stockwell sir!"

"Wait a little while longer until you pour that batch out, the men working the molds are starting to get over encumbered. Niven, with me."

"Hai!"

Stockwell stepped down from the platform and turned to the dumbfounded blacksmith who had been watching the whole process from behind him.

"You certainly have a way with words Mr. Stockwell."

"Yes, when I first started my business, I found that good natured insults work best with rustic old men on the factory floor, but that was a long time ago. These are good men here, they're full of life and they respond well. I would hire them all on the spot. So what is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh yes,that project you had me working on, I just finished it."

They both turned and saw Niven jogging toward them.

"Excellent, then let's talk back at my laboratory."

...

The walls of Stockwell's laboratory were lined with arrays of jars, and only some of them were actually labeled. They were filled with all kinds of strange things; plants, crystals, powdered ores, mysterious liquids, and other weird materials the "scientist" had created with his strange magic. He was pretty sure even saw a dead rat in one of them.

Stockwell had been absolutely ecstatic when he had learned that Mr. Faber was not only a blacksmith, but also a skilled glass blower. He had made him make all kinds of bizarre shapes. Beakers, flasks, philes, retorts, cylinders, pipets, condensers, stirring rods, petri dishes, slides, the whole slew. And they now all sat haphazardly on Stockwell's workbench, where he hoped that they were at least being treated well.

And while everything Stockwell said went right over his head, Niven seemed to catch on right away. He and Stockwell sat together discussing things while Niven tended to the lab around them.

"I've never seen so much steel produced so quickly, we could completely dominate the market! What was that stuff you were throwing in the crucible earlier? The spiegle-whatsit?"

"Spiegeleisen, it's an alloy of iron and manganese and it used to reduce impurities in pig iron while also introducing carbon and manganese for the steel, the volcanic caves around the village are a treasure trove of ores so it wasn't that hard to make. And yes, the entire point of this was to flood the market with affordable and good quality steel, not only will it make us rich, but it will also pave the way to getting steam engines up and running later down the line."

"Uh huh…." The blacksmith didn't understand the words he was using so he just decided to continue.

"So anyways, I completed that project-"

He was interrupted by Niven who walked into the room holding a pile of white slop in his gloved hands, "Master, what do you want me to do with this?"

Mr. Faber held his nose due to the stench it made.

"Oh, we don't need the bat guano any more after we've already extracted the saltpeter, you can go ahead and toss it. Oh, and make sure you separate the other salts and put them into the mason jars as well."

"Okay!"

Niven walked out of the room and the stench disappeared.

"Sorry about that Mr. Faber, please, continue."

"U-Uh yea, so I completed that project, here it is."

Mr. Faber revealed a cylindrical object and handed it to Stockwell. It was an incredibly simple thing. It was just a metal tube, with one open end and one closed end, the closed end also had a small hole in the side.

 _What the hell, he actually managed to do it with dark ages metallurgy, I thought for sure that I would have to build some kind of lathe._

Stockwell examined it it closely while Mr. Faber talked.

"It was really tricky to forge the cylinder, It took every ounce of smithing skill I had in order to keep the hole in the middle from collapsing."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I just said, after I heated the steel, I shaped it into the cylinder the old fashioned way, good ol' hammer and anvil."

 _What the hell!? Hammer and anvil!?_

"Are you saying you didn't just make the cylinder and bore a hole in it?"

The blacksmith gave him a confused look, "Why would I do that? I'm more than capable when it comes to shaping steel. But I did still end up using quite a lot of mana to keep the cylinder from collapsing in on itself."

 _What is he talking about? Mana?_

"Are you saying you use magic to make this?"

"Well yes, in a sense. All blacksmiths use some kind of technique to get the metal in the shape that they want it. I'm capable of using [Enhanced Shape Metal] so that's what I normally use."

"I-I see."

Stockwell looked at the metal cylinder in his hands like an alien object. _He even got the touch hole right without boring it, it's literally just one continuous piece of metal._

"Is something wrong?"

"N-No, it's fine. Nice work Mr. Faber. I'll put it to good use."

"Thank you, I'll take my leave then, and once more, thank you for saving our village."

"Of course, the pleasure is all mine. Now then, I have to go and sell, quite literally, tons of steel in the capital. Tell the chief that Niven and I will be back in a few days."

The blacksmith nodded and left the lab. As he did so, Stockwell looked at the metal cylinder in his hands. He had a look of disgust on his face. Afterall, he didn't particularly have fond memories of magic.

 _I'll make a lathe when I come back, I don't want to rely on such a...a.., an unfair and foul art._

"Niven! Pack your things, we're going to the capital! Also get an extra horse out of the stable and hook it up to the wagon, we're going to be pulling a lot of extra weight!""

"Hai!"

He looked at the cylinder in his hands once more.

 _Even if it was made using magic, it's still just a simple piece of metal. It will still work._

His face curled into a sinister grin.

...

Niven and Stockwell had just made it through the checkpoint to get into the city, and were now loading their wagon back up.

Niven patted one of the horses attached to the wagon and fed it a carrot. "Good job coming over that hill, Grensquell Belegorn Aradahelpen the II, Destroyer of Worlds, I wasn't sure if we were going to make it."

The horse neighed and flicked its tail.

"You can't keep spoiling only that one my boy or the other one will get jealous. Also, do you have to say her full name every single time?"

"Don't worry master, Moo-Chee-Goo-Chee-La-Poo-Chee the III, Splinterer of Souls, isn't the jealous type, and also, this is Grensquell Belegorn Aradahelpen the II, Destroyer of World's first trip outside the village, so of course I'm going to spoil her. And yes, the stable keep allowed me to name them so of course I'm going to call them by their full names.

Stockwell simply rolled his eyes, "Let's get moving then."

"Hai."

The both got onto the driver's seat and continued down the road. They saw the tip of a spire coming up over the hill.

Stockwell craned his neck to get a better look. "*whistle* That's quite the castle."

"Have you never been to the capital before, master?"

"I told you I came from a different world my boy, of course not."

"Oh yea…" He had told Niven that he had come from a different world, which was why he possessed such alien knowledge, but NIven had yet to truly internalize it.

"It really is a nice castle though, it certainly has some tall spires. Still though, not as big as my old home."

"What?"

"You heard me boy." Stockwell was holding his hands out and framing the castle in his fingers. "I'd say Wesley Tower is easily fifty times that castle's height."

Niven turned and giggled, "Stop joking around master. I heared that Ro Lente Castle is one of the tallest structures on the continent."

"Oh but it's true my boy. It cost me a pretty penny to build, and not only was it the most expensive building at the time, it was also the tallest. It stood at 1674 meters my boy. It was so tall that the engineers said it couldn't be done, it had it's own microclimate and the support columns had to made out of Asimovium. You could watch the sunset from the bottom of the tower, and then if you wanted to, you could take an elevator and watch it again from the top seven minutes later."

Stockwell grinned evilly, "I sure beat those slimy bastards at their own game of vanity."

"You're really bad at lying master." Even as he said that though, he looked at the castle in amazement as he imagined a massive tower popping out of it.

Stockwell's smile softened and he ruffled the boy's hair, "But I digress, let's go sell some steel."

...

"Hahaha! Did you see the look on that guy's face! I bet he's never seen so many steel ingots in one place, and at such high quality too!"

Niven laughed as he remembered the forge master's face.

"Why did you sell them for so little coin though? Whenever I buy steel for Mr. Faber, it costs me easily twice as much. Couldn't you have charged much more?"

Stockwell rifled through a small satchel of gold coins while riding in the driver's seat next to him. "No, in fact, I think we got it just right. You see boy, we're not in this for a quick profit. We're in this for world domination."

"World domination?"

Stockwell did his best to repress his demented smile. "With the bessemer, our overall process of converting iron ore into steel is already way more efficient than this world's process of simply making iron. That being the case, we can afford to sell the steel at an even lower market price than that of iron."

"But why though? Wouldn't It still be better to sell it for more? Steel is better than iron after all, I don't think people will have a problem paying more for it."

"You might think that, but like I said, we're not here for a quick profit. We're here for world domination. What do you think will happen once consumers realize that they can buy steel for less than what they're already paying for iron?"

"They'll buy our steel?"

"Yes yes yes, but that's not the important part.

"The important part?"

"Yes, the most important part, what do you think will happen to the other ore refineries once everyone is buying from us."

Niven put his finger to his lips and thought. "They won't have very many customers."

"Yes, and…?"

"And they'll go out of business?"

"Yes my boy, exactly! And we'll be ready to swallow them up when that happens. And once we have a monopoly on the kingdom's metal, we'll be able to set prices wherever we want them. Not only will we be rich, but we'll also be able to leverage politics involving metal such as warfare."

Stockwell could no longer suppress his demented smile.

"Those corrupt nobles are no different from the businessmen of my world, they get rid of antitrust laws so that they can sit together around their little table and abuse their monopoly power, they make me sick. But not us though, we'll show them the right way to abuse a monopoly, and before they know it, they'll be penniless and begging for mercy."

Stockwell chuckled evilly while Niven thought.

"But doesn't that seem, well… kind of evil?"

Stockwell stopped his laughing and glared at the boy. "Evil! Evil!? I'll tell you what's evil boy! What's evil is being born with power and using it to make others suffer! What's evil is standing by while people get wealth and don't deserve it! What's evil is negligence for basic human rights! What's evil is having someone's mother die from overwork, so that you could wipe your ass with golden toilet paper! That's what's evil!"

Niven cowered into his seat while Stockwell verbally assailed him.

"And you know what the worse sin of them all is Niven boy? It's thinking that just because you have power, that you're safe from me."

"H-Hai."

"Now let's go, we still have more stops to make."

"Hai…"

...

They completed their sales and rode towards the city gate. Stockwell's earlier bout of rage was nowhere to be found.

As they rode in silence, they noticed something. They heard the voices of people crowding and cheering several blocks down.

"What do you think that is Niven boy?"

"Uhh.. I don't know, I think it might be a tournament, I remember seeing one last time I was here."

"Hmmm… Let's go check it out."

"Hai."

Niven steered the waggon toward the sound. As they got closer, they could see that it was indeed some kind of arena where hundreds of people sat around in raised seats. They were watching the courtyard where people were fighting with swords.

Niven parked the wagon outside and they pushed their way to the front of the crowd.

"Yeah, this is a martial arts competition. I think they do them all the time here."

"Martial arts competition?"

"Mhmm. It's a competition between fighters to show off their fighting skills. It's the warrior-magic skills that I told you about. It isn't like the gladiators in the empire though. Killing isn't really allowed here, and it's more of just a publicity stunt for nobles who want to sponsor fighters. There, look."

Niven pointed to a platform that was raised out of the crowd. Atop it was a luxuriously dressed man along with a couple of bodyguards. There was a coat of arms hanging from the platform.

"I think that's Marquis Blumlash, he must be sponsoring one of the fighters."

There was a chorus of cheers as one of the fighters in the middle went down. An announcer's voice boomed through the arena, his voice enhanced by a magic item.

" _And it seems that Marquis Blumlash is victorious over Marqui Raeven!"_

"Oh and I guess Marquis Raeven must be here too, he must be in the crowd somewhere, I can't see him though."

The fighter who was knocked to the ground stood and limped out of the courtyard. The warrior that was still standing was a huge brute of a man. He wore iron armor and in his hand was an absurdly large sword.

" _And there you have it folks! That beast of a man that you see before you is a former orichalcum adventurer! This is his seventh victory in a row today! And it looks like he's accepting challenges! Does anyone dare step forward?"_

The warrior marched around the ring with his hands up in a 'come at me' fashion. He received equal amounts cheers and jeers.

Stockwell smiled evilly. _This is too easy, it's like he's just asking to be taken down. I wanted to wait until we secured a better source of saltpeter than bat guano before we did this, but I simply can't pass up a chance like this., It's just simply to perfect._

He tapped Niven's shoulder.

"What is it, master?"

"I have a task for you, but it's going to require you to to trust me."

...

" _Well folks, it looks like that's it for today! Sorry Marquis Blumlash, but it seems no one dares to challenge your- Oh wait! Would you look at that folks! It looks like someone actually has accepted the challenge!"_

The warrior in the arena turned around to see a young boy stepping into the ring behind him. He looked to be around 17, he had messy black hair and darkly tanned skin. He was holding some kind of metal club.

" _A young man has taken up the challenge! And It looks like he's chosen a club as his weapon! What a brave lad! What's your name kid?"_

Niven looked to where the announcer was standing. "I-It's Niven!"

" _Well, then Niven! Best of luck to you, you're going to need it! Everyone give the brave young lad a round of applause!"_

The crowed cheered and laughed as Niven took the other side of the arena. The warrior on the other side looked the boy over and rolled his eyes. He would finish this match quickly so he could get paid and go home.

" _It seems our fighters are ready! So without further ado! Begin!"_

The warrior charged at the boy. His plan was to rush him and use his strength to intercept the club and knock him to the ground, where he would be forced to surrender.

As Niven watched the towering armored man charge at him from across the arena, it took every ounce of will he had to stand his ground without fleeing. He shakily brought the metal cylinder up and pressed it into his chest.

He was desperately recalling the words he shared with his master moments prior.

" _Do you remember that reaction I told you about earlier?"_

" _Which one?"_

" _The one with the sulfur, carbon, and saltpeter."_

" _Oh! The one that you said was so important that you said we needed to get saltpeter at all costs and made me collect all that bat guano."_

" _Yes that one, do you remember what it does?"_

" _You said that it exploded when it caught on fire, right?"_

" _Yes, more or less, and now I'm going to show exactly why this reaction is so important."_

" _Wait, what's that you're pulling from underneath your shirt?"_

" _It's called a hand cannon my boy, it's incredibly rudimentary. All it is is a tube and a projectile, but it should still work nonetheless. I packed that mixture of sulfur, carbon, and saltpeter down at the bottom end of the tube and I put an iron ball on top of it and then I put in so cloth after that so everything stays in. All you have to do is put an ember in the touch hole, here, and it'll propel the ball at your enemy."_

Niven took the twig out of his pant's loop that Stockwell had given him. Smoke gently drifted from the ember at the top of it.

He had agreed to do this for two reasons. One, he had respect for Stockwell, the man who saved his village and took him as an apprentice. And two, he was also desperately curious to see exactly what this chemical reaction was capable of.

Niven hovered the ember over the touch hole. It had only been a few seconds since the match had begun, but it seemed like a lifetime. He was just a village boy, and his opponent was a seasoned veteran, a master of combat.

His legs quivered with fear. The warrior would be on him in a matter of moments. He was big, easily twice his weight, and he was wearing a full suit of iron armor. The crowd boomed in anticipation. If this didn't work, he would have no chance of victory.

Niven shook his head and steadied his hands. He needed to trust his master.

He watched the warrior's face, he was looking for something specific. _Now listen closely my boy, you only have one shot. So as William Prescott may or may not have said: Don't fire until you see the white of their eyes!"_

The warrior stepped in and raised his sword. He looked the boy in the eyes.

 _There!_

Niven aimed straight ahead and touched the ember to the hole.

What happened next was the kind of thing that could only be described as a miracle..

The heat from the ember decomposed the potassium nitrate and reacted with the sulfur to form potassium sulfide, potassium sulphate, and nitrogen gas. The exothermic reaction and decomposition of nitrate gave heat and oxygen to the carbon which explosively formed carbon dioxide. The gases expanded and the mixture blasted to life. All parts working in perfect proportion, burning with the energy content of 3 megajoules per kilogram.

Countless unnamed chemists had lived and died by the mixture, improving upon it through hundreds of years trial and error. It inspired countless people through fireworks, and took countless lives through firearms. A lifetime of struggle and achievement erupted from every grain.

A millennia of human history from a different world passed in a blink of an eye. _**Bang.**_

And though no one was able to see it, Stockwell shuddered. It was not because he was scared, rather, it was simply that he had an ominous feeling. He got the feeling that with the discharge of the Earthian weapon, he had stripped the world of it's virginity, and had set it down a path from which it would never be able to return.

The armored warrior received it in full force. The iron ball exploded from the barrel at a speed of 120 meters a second. It crashed into the armor and it caved in, like a thumb of god being pressed into primordial clay. The ball pierced through and embedded itself into the warrior's gut.

The crowd fell into a stunned silence. The cannon's discharge echoed in the arena and rang in their souls. Marquis Blumlash released a silent, paralysed exhale.

The only sound was that of a iron clad warrior, wincing in pain as he rolled on the ground.

Niven's hands were shaking. His face a mixture of fear and relief.

No one dared to move. No one dared to help the fallen warrior.

" _W-w-w-well.. F-folks, i-it looks like we have a winner b-but-"_

"I'll be borrowing this."

A man appeared behind the announcer. was wearing peasant's clothing and a cloth veil to hide his identity.

He took the magic item shaped like a loudspeaker from the announcer's limp hands.

Every footstep was clearly audible as he made his way to where Niven was standing.

The stranger had their undivided attention. He stood behind Niven and smirked behind his veil. _I've given press conferences live in front of millions, something like this is a walk in the park._

"Greetings, humans and _swine_ of the Re-Estize kingdom."

Blumlash flinched.

"My name is Rhamnusia!"

The crowd started murmuring in hushed whispers. " _Rhamnusia...isn't that….story….demon…."_

"Yes, indeed. I am that very same demon, summoned from hell for but a single purpose."

Blumlash could feel the demon's gaze glaring at him from behind the veil.

"To make the prideful suffer."

Niven felt his master's hand on his shoulder.

"This boy is but a simple farm hand, a peasant from a village, and yet, he was able to defeat the mightiest warrior here in the blink of an eye. How, you ask? Is it because the boy had a magic weapon? Nay, this warrior writhing on the ground was not defeated by his enemy's weapon, but his own hubris . He boasted his strength, thinking that the weak peasant before him could not come close to matching him."

Rhamnusia's voice was gripping. He knew how to talk with the right inflections and emphasis to captivate an audience.

"However! That is where he made his mistake! This boy is not a noble, not a martial artist, not a magic caster! But just like all of you, he is not powerless!"

" _Not a magic...what's he talking about….Is that really the demon?"_

"Yes! The existence of magic in this world has made you grow blind to the weapon you all possess. It's a weapon created by billions of powerless humans over thousands of years, who by polishing their wisdom and exploiting their cleverness, have learned to use the very forces of nature itself!

Yes, the weapon I'm talking about is the weapon known as science. And what this boy has shown you today is only a fraction of it's true power. In the past, powerless humans like you were able to travel faster than sound and bring the furnace of the sun unto earth."

He took the hand cannon from Niven and held it it front of him.

"The power I offer you is the great equalizer. Use it to topple the golden thrones of your oppressors, use it to kill the ones born with unfair gifts. Yes, use it to usurp the prejudice balances of power in this world!

I am the demon of justice, Rhamnusia! I am the one who commits evil to destroy an even greater one! Those of you who have power, fear me. And those of you who do not, seek me!"

The crowd didn't react, or rather, they couldn't react. Blumlash was paralysed utop his platform. Everyone had understood the point that Rhamnusia was saying, they just simply couldn't react. The things that the demon had said were simply to fantastical.

Rhamnusia leaned over and whispered into Niven's ear, "We've done our job and planted the seeds of discontent, now It's time we made our exit my boy."

He led Niven out of the arena by the shoulder. No one dared to follow them

...

They changed their clothes the moment they were out of sight. It seemed that they had made it out of the city without being followed.

"Okay, it looks like we've made it out of the city, we can relax now."

Stockwell relaxed his posture on the driver's seat and Niven lowered the bandana that was covering his face.

"I'm sure you have questions my boy, and I'll do my best to answer them, but one thing must be made very clear: No one must ever find out about us."

"What do you mean."

"About everything. No one must ever make the connection between Mr. Wesley the steel trader who has his business centralized in E-Pespel and the capital, Moot Village and its rapid advancements due to a strange scientist, and the Demon of Justice, Rhamnusia. We need all of these people to remain as separate entities, do you understand?"

Niven pondered for a second but seemed like he understood. "Okay, I understand, master."

He waited a little while longer before asking his questions. "Master, are you really serious? Do you actually plan to take over the-"

"Yes."

"I-I see…"

It was simply a lot for Niven to take in, but after thinking for awhile, he came to the conclusion that such a thing might just be possible for someone as great as his master.

"Are you really a demon, master?"

Stockwell chuckled lightly, but Niven could detect something sinister behind it.

"Haha, no my boy, I'm just a plain old human. However, it should be noted that the name Rhamnusia was not a name I chose for myself, but was given to me."

"W-What do you mean?"

"I mean that for better or worse, I did indeed earn the name "Demon of justice", once in this world, and once in the world before."

"I see..." Niven nodded as he internalized what that answer implied.

Niven also wanted to ask why he hated nobility so much, but he remembered the insane look in Stockwell's eyes earlier that day, and decided it would be best to let it rest for now. Instead, he asked a perfectly innocent question.

"How did that chemical reaction work? The one with the hand cannon."

Stockwell relaxed and smiled, he thoroughly enjoyed talking about science. "Aww yes, but first, let me explain how combustion works…"

...

They rode while talking about science and chemistry. The capital had just disappeared behind a hill.

"And that's what color really is."

"Wait wait wait, but master, didn't you just say that light was a wave? But now you're implying that it's a particle."

"Yes, that's also true, but you need to consider that i'm talking about fluorescence right now and that-"

[Magic Arrow]

A glowing arrow came out of nowhere and lodged itself in one of the horse's side. Niven and Stockwell watched in surprised horror as the horse cried and flailed.

"G-Grensquell Belegorn Aradahelpen the II, Destroyer of Worlds! H-How did-?

Stockwell lept into action, "Goddamnit boy! Get behind the wagon, we're not alone-"

[Shock]

A small bolt of lighting collided with Stockwell, causing him to fall to the ground in a spasm. He caught sight of two people emerging from the bluff on the side of the road. The were chortling arrogantly.

One of the person's hands were glowing faintly, he must have been the magic caster. "Hehe, It seems you are just a human. And to think that we were scared to track you. How much was Blumlash paying for this again?"

He gestured to the other man beside him, he was dressed like a rogue. He laughed evilly. "I think he's paying us three gold each. All for just tracking down and killing a peasant."

He walked up to the still paralyzed Stockwell and kneeled down. He drew his sword. Stockwell knew that this would be his end.

 _It's not fair. Magic is too unfair. It's just not fair. If only I could move my body._

The rouge lifted his sword and plunged it into Stockwell's kidney. He was still paralyzed from the magic caster's spell so all he could do was let out a pained exhale.

The magic caster was watching from behind the rouge, "Hey, don't play around with him too much, just end him quickly and we can go and collect our reward."

"Hehe, sure thing boss."

Stockwell managed to move his head just enough to look the rouge in the eyes.

 _Those eyes, those damn eyes! It's the same damn eyes!_ In Stockwell's mind, the eyes of the rogue were morphing into the eyes of the business man who killed his mother. They were morphing into the eyes of his torturer and Aamon. They were filled with unspeakable disconcern and arrogance.

 _How dare you look at me like that!? Such arrogance! Such dismissal! I bet you think you're invincible!_

Wesley Asimov Stockwell has always been a naturally vindictive person, but he would never go as far as kill someone with his own two hands. However, due to months of torture, something had broken in his mind, something that gave him a grip on humanity and morality had gone a little loose. The switch had been flipped.

"Alrighty then _Rhamnusia_ , time to say your final-... What?"

The rouge saw that Stockwell was grabbing the blade of his sword with his bare hand, preventing him from pulling it out of him.

"H-Hey! What are you-"

He looked at Stockwell's face. There was an insane smile on it.

" _Caught you."_

"What!?"

Stockwell drew the dagger at his hip with his other hand. The rouge immediately recognized the danger he was in and tried to get away, but Stockwell had grabbed the rogue's sword hand and willingly forced his sword further into his body just so he couldn't get away.

Stockwell plunged his dagger straight into the rogue's neck. He was showered in his blood, the rouge died with a horrified expression on his face.

"W-What!? You bastard!"

The magic caster pointed his hands at the madman.

[Magic Arrow-]

 _ **Bang.**_

The magic caster cried in pain. He clutched his side. "Gah! What was that!?"

Niven appeared from behind the wagon holding the smoking hand cannon. The bullet had only skimmed the caster's side. "M-Master?"

"You!" the magic caster pointed his other hand at Niven [Shock!]

A small bolt of lightning shot forth and collided with the boy. He fell to the ground paralyzed

Stockwell lurched as he pulled the roges sword from his body. He gave off a truly masochistic smile.

" _Nice job my boy."_

He limped up to behind the distracted magic caster. He stabbed him in the back and he fell to the ground. He straddled him and raised his dagger.

"N-No please!"

It was clear from the insane look on Stockwell's face that mercy was not an option.

"D-Damnit, [Magic-] Gah!"

Stockwell stabbed him straight through his raised palm.

He laughed as he repeatedly thrust his dagger into the caster's chest. He avoided hitting vital organs. Every time he raised the dagger, the sword wound in his side opened up further, but he didn't care. In fact, he rather enjoyed the sensation of his muscles tearing and his blood spilling out.

The caster had turned into a gory mess, blood bubbled in his throat and frothed in his screams. He died not from the stabbings, but from drowning in his own fluids.

Stockwell continued to stab the corpse. His eyes had glazed over and he laughed in sinister triumph.

"I did it! I did it! I killed another one! No one is safe from justice!"

Niven was paralyzed on the ground and his ears weren't working properly. As such, he wasn't able to see what his master was doing.

Stockwell continued to stab the corpse until he passed out from blood loss. That last thing he was able to hear was a woman's voice calling out his name.

...

"I'm sorry about your horse."

Niven shook his head sadly as he sat at the reigns of the other horse. "It's okay Miss Vera, I'm old enough to know that death is nothing cry about. Grensquell Belegorn Aradahelpen the II, Destroyer of Worlds, is in a better place now."

"But surely you're still sad, no?"

"I-I'm fine." Even as he said that, Niven forced himself not to cry as he steered the one-horse wagon down the dirt path back to Moot Village.

In the back of the wagon was a woman with flowing raven hair and mismatched eyes. She said that she was from the magician's guild, and that she had been trying to find them when she heard the news about a demon named Rhamnusia appearing in the capital. She had found them lying on the road, paralyzed and unconscious.

She said that she was a friend of Stockwell's and healed him with magic. And he had been sleeping in the back of the wagon ever since.

Lying next to him was the dagger that he had been using since his arrival in the new world. It was the same dagger that he had used to kill six of Vera's former brothers, slash a pharmacist's hand open, and just recently, smite a pair of bounty hunters.

"It'll be a few hours before we arrive at Moot Village, so why don't you get some rest, Miss Vera."

"Yea… That's a good idea." She caressed Stockwell's head in her lap and leaned against the back of the wagon.

...

A man heard a knock on his door. "Yes yes, I'm coming! Just a moment!"

He hurried over and opened it, "Who are you?"

Standing before him was the immaculate image of a butler, he was tall with steel-grey hair. He speech was elegant and polite, "Pardon the intrusion, are the announcer for the arena in the business district?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm a butler serving under lady Solution, she has taken interest in the fight that occurred there yesterday. I humbly ask that you share us any information regarding the demon Rhamnusia and the weapon he was using."

The announcer recognized Solution's name as the name of the first class beauty who had appeared in town recently. His face flushed.

"O-Of course, please come in…?"

"Oh, pardon me, my name is Sebas."

"Then please come in, Sebas-san."


	6. The Stockwellian Warmachine

Vera watched curiously while Niven worked. He was sitting at the workbench in Stockwell's laboratory adding yellowish powder to a flask filled with clear liquid.

She leaned in to get a closer look. She had her flowing black hair tied up into a bun behind her head since Niven had told her that she needed to do so whenever she entered the lab.

"What are you doing now?"

"Well, we finished topping off the sulfuric acid yesterday so I'm moving on to the other things that master was trying to make before we left for the capital."

"Oh thats right, you had me cast fire spells at that weird steel container full of brimstone because you said you were running low on coal…"

Niven smiled "Mhmm! I thought master would be impressed at our improvising. Oh! And make sure you call it sulfur and not brimstone, master gets really pedantic about the names of chemicals sometimes. It's atomic number is 16 if you want to look it up."

"Oh yeah, sulfur…" Vera peered at the chart splayed across the laboratory's wall. Niven had called it, "The Periodic Table of Elements."

"...16…"

Stockwell's written language used different numbers than hers, but luckily they were organized into a base ten decimal system so she was able to adapt right away.

She looked along the fragmented rows and columns of the table until she found element number 16. It's name was written in an alien alphabet: "SULFUR".

Underneath it was its name translated into her own language. It seemed that Niven and Stockwell had been teaching each other their respective languages. Niven had excellent penmanship and she sounded out the beautifully swaying characters in her mouth.

"...Sulfur…"

She wondered how that number and name correlated with the chunks of yellow rock that littered the caustic landscape across the lake from Moot village.

Her thoughts were interrupted.

"So yeah, I thought I'd move on to making some of the other chemicals that master had planned on."

He took out a tattered notebook from his side pouch and handed it to Vera without looking away from the flask.

"He wrote out a lot of his plans in that book, but the problem is is that he didn't write down how to make a lot of the chemicals, so I've been trying to figure it out myself."

Vera opened the notebook and saw that the entire thing was written in english. Niven had painstakingly translated every word in the margins. She barely understood any of the content, it discussed molecules and compounds and tons of words she had never heard before.

"You understand all of this?"

Niven shook his head sheepishly. "For as long as I can remember, I've always been good at learning new things, and even master said that I was 'terrifyingly intelligent'. But even so, many of the things in that note book are still too advanced for me."

He added some more liquid to the flask before perking up and grinning. "But that's what's fun though! I've never met someone as great as master! He has so much to teach! These last few weeks I've spent with him have been the best weeks of my life!"

Vera smiled when she saw the boy's enthusiasm to learn. In the world she had grown up in, knowledge was sought after because it could be used for power, so much so that they were willing to kill each other for it. But the boy in front of her simply just enjoyed learning, it was refreshing to see.

She thought about the man who was responsible for the boy's smile, Mr. Stockwell. When she had first met him in her grandfather's crypt, she was captivated by his kindness and wisdom that so sharply contrasted with the people around her. And due to the circumstances, she was forced to determined that he was a god in disguise.

 _Then was what I saw earlier a different side of him?_ She was recalling how she had found him atop a bloody corpse, dagger in hand. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

 _Then perhaps he really is a demon who judges mortals._ She recalled how she had returned to her grandfather's crypt to see Stockwell's handiwork. She had already accepted that they were going to die before she left, so she was not surprised to see the result. And perhaps while she didn't wish them all to die, she knew that it was probably for the best.

 _He can't just be a simple human though. Killing nearly the entire cult along with my grandfather would've been a difficult task even for a fully prepared adamantite adventurer team, and yet not only did he manage to do it alone, he did it without any weapons or armor._

' _Rhamnusia', I guess they were right._

She looked back at the boy who was smiling so happily.

 _But that doesn't make him evil though, right? Anyone capable of making someone so happy can't be an evil person. I doubt a boy as innocent as this one would willingly follow an evil demon anyways. And even if he really is a demon, he must one of those fair ones that only punish sinners._

She remembered how she had stripped and examined his body when she was healing his wounds. She blushed slightly. _He definitely has a normal human body though. Perhaps he wants it that way._

She nodded to herself, it all made sense to her. Her faith was fully solidified. She turned to the boy.

"So what is it that you're doing now, Niven."

He was watching the flask with intense concentration.

"I'm trying to make something called hydrogen peroxide. Master describes it in the book as a really useful chemical, but he didn't actually write how to make it. But i think I figured out a way to do it! He's going to be so surprised when he finally wakes up!"

Niven reached to grab the flask but flinched when he touched it. "Youch! Hot. Oh, thats right, you said you wanted to help, right Miss Vera?"

Vera nodded with conviction.

"Then if it's not too much trouble, could to cool the flask down?"

"Of course."

Vera held out her hands and focused. [Icy wind], it was a tier 1 spell that blasted the opponent with chilling winds. She focused and controlled it so that it only gently produced a cold wind that cooled the flask.

"Thanks!"

Niven picked up the flask and gently swirled it.

"I added sodium peroxide to dilute sulfuric acid. I forgot about the fact that that would probably produce a lot of heat. Silly me.""

He grinned as he watched crystals of sodium sulphate form on the bottom of the flask. "

Vera smiled.

"Where did you get the…"

She thought in her head, if she was going to be spending her time with Stockwell and the boy, she needed to remember the names of the chemicals they were dealing with.

"...The sodium peroxide?"

Niven's face lit up, he got to be the teacher for once.

"Well the first thing we did was get sodium carbonate, which was super easy to find in the volcanic caves outside of Moot. And then we turned it into this!"

Niven walked over to the array of mason jars lining the walls of the laboratory. He grabbed a jar and held it up so Vera could see. Inside of it it were chunks of a dull grey metal.

"This is metallic sodium! We made it through a process called-"

He put down the jar and held his hands in front of him. He waggled his fingers for a magical emphasis.

"-Carbothermal reduction."

Vera giggled.

Niven laughed too.

"Hehe, all that is is just a fancy way of saying we put in a furnace with a load of carbon and heated it a bunch. Once we had the metal, we just reacted it with oxygen to get the sodium peroxide."

Vera had only spent a few weeks out in the real world, so she wasn't used to socialising yet. When she was at the magician's guild she would keep to herself as much as possible which was alright because no one wanted to approach her anyways since her eyes were rumoured to be cursed.

So really the only person she had ever conversed to freely with was Stockwell, with whom she had spent months talking to through a tiny cell door window. But something about the boy's immediate acceptance of her company seemed more innocent, more pure than the cool and calculating wisdom that Stockwell had shown her. But she figured that she probably shouldn't compare the two of them though, one was a demon/deity after all.

Niven went back to the flask were he would begin to filter out the sodium sulphate, and hopefully concentrate some hydrogen peroxide later.

"Master said that there was a more elegant way to do it this that used sodium hydroxide, but he said that he wanted to get electricity for electrolysis before we started making that."

Vera smiled, "I see. Then speaking of your master, I'm going to go check on him."

Niven smiled and nodded, "Okay."

...

They had been making sure that Stockwell was well hydrated, but he couldn't eat for obvious reasons, so the meal that Vera was preparing was not for the greying man sleeping behind her, but for herself.

Stockwell's house in Moot wasn't very large since he practically lived in his laboratory anyways and only used his house to sleep. It was a one room building with a small kitchen for preparing meals and a single bed.

When she had arrived in Moot along with Niven, the chief said that she could stay with Stockwell since she said she was a friend of his afterall. She ended up having to sleep in the same bed as him since they couldn't find a cot for her. She had been careful to leave it at that and nothing more.

She still had her hair tied up into a bun from earlier and she was wearing an apron. She was cunning a tomato when she heard stirring behind her.

"I thought I told you that you didn't have to do the cooking anymore."

Stockwell lazed out of the bed. It was the first time he woke since stabbing a magic caster to death in the capital four days ago. His mind was still hazy, still lingering with a small amount of insanity. He saw the familiar silhouette of a woman with tied up hair and an apron.

He walked up to the frozen Vera and put his hands on hers. He gently lifted them off the knife and the tomato.

"You're already working too much, at least let me do the cooking."

He began to cut the tomato for her. She looked at his eyes, they were clouded over.

 _He's sleepwalking. He's even more human than I thought._

He finished cutting the tomato and put the knife down.

"There you go. I'll be home later, so make sure you get… lots of...rest…"

Stockwell began to close his eyes again, he wobbled and his balance waned.

"Mr. Stockwell! Mr. Stockwell!" She managed to catch him before he hit the ground.

He lazily closed his eyelids and fell back asleep.

...

He awoke once more an hour later. Vera had been keeping a watchful eye on him.

In the brief twilight between sleep and consciousness, he whispered something. He had been dreaming the entire time he was asleep about all the people he had killed. It manifested itself in an epitaph that he had seen when he was just just a young boy, visiting the Great Coup Memorial.

"Body and Spirit I surrendered whole

To harsh instructors — and received a soul…

If mortal man could change me through and through

From all I was — what may The God not do?"

Vera listened carefully when she heard the stirring. _Some kind of divine wisdom or knowledge maybe? Should I be listening to this?_

Stockwell sat up in his bed and felt where his sword wound should've been. He shook the sleep from his eyes.

Vera took a deep breath and bowed to him. "Good morning, Mr. Stockwell."

Stockwell examined the bowing woman. He was still half asleep, but his long rest seemed to at least shake out most of his insanity. Her name appeared in his mind.

"...Miss Vera?"

"Hai, I found you outside the capital and healed your wounds, I returned you here along with your apprentice."

"...Healed…" Stockwell felt his side. Vera had gotten to him when the wound was still fresh so she was able to heal it without leaving a single lingering scar. _Oh, that's right. I was wounded. She healed me with magic then? Magic? Oh yeah, magic exists now…_

Vera bowed lower to the ground. "Please, let me follow you."

 _What? Follow me? Follow me where?_ Stockwell put his hand on his forehead in pain. _W-What, what was I doing again? It was something important._ He saw the dagger sticking into the end table. _Oh, that's right, I remember now._

He remembered stabbing the caster to death. He wasn't the least bit disturbed. _This is a kill or be killed world. Walking around with only a dagger and a hand cannon isn't going to cut it when magic casters are walking around. We need to arm ourselves._

He had a feeling that his kill count had only just begun.

He looked once more at the woman bowing to him. He was beginning to wake up for real this time _She's the woman from the crypt, the one with the yellow and black eyes. She's trustworthy._

"I'm walking a bloody path. You may have to end up killing fellow human beings. Knowing this, do you still wish to follow me?"

Vera had already expected this. While she yearned in her heart for a kinder world, she was raised in a world where violence was an inevitability. Regardless if she liked it or not, she had already known what it was like to kill someone with her own hands.

Vera steeled her conviction. "Hai."

 _Good, I'm done avoiding magic anyways, we need to use everything we have at our disposal. I think I can use her for real this time._

Stockwell put on his warmest smile, taking care to hide his sadism.

"Then it seems we'll be spending lots of time together from now on, Vera."

Vera looked up and smiled full of relief. "Hai!"

"Now let's go practice science."

...

"Master! You're awake!"

Stockwell and Vera appeared in the entrance of the laboratory.

"It seem's like you've been busy my boy." He was looking at Niven who was standing over a small furnace evaporating liquid in a flask with a pair of tongs.

He smiled happily. "Hai!"

Stockwell looked around at the jars lining the laboratory, it seemed that Niven had filled most of them up and labeled them.

"So what are you doing now?"

"I'm concentrating hydrogen peroxide."

"Oh? Now how did you managed to make that?" Stockwell walked over to the boy and watched the flask with him.

Niven grinned proudly. "I used dilute sulfuric acid and sodium peroxide!"

"Oh ho! Nice thinking my boy, I hope you remembered to cool the flask and not burn your hand."

Niven blushed sheepishly "O-Of Course."

Vera chuckled silently.

"How concentrated do you suppose it is now, my boy?"

Niven looked at the small volume of liquid in the flask, "Hmmm… I'd say maybe 70% so far."

Stockwell's eyes grew wide and he hurriedly grabbed the tongs, bringing the flask away from the heat. "Woah woah woah, be careful boy, that'll oxidize the pants right off of you."

He laughed lightly. "You can go ahead it and store it later, that's plenty strong enough for what we'll need it for."

Niven looked down and blushed. 'S-Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it's about time we've made some proper safety gear anyways. Now come with me, it's time to arm ourselves."

* * *

 **Note: The rest of this chapter is pretty much a crafting montage. It's basically here to serve as an explanation for their armaments in later chapters. I don't suggest reading it all in one sitting. Or, If you really don't care at all about how they craft stuff, I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world if you skipped it.**

 **Before I write these kinds of chapters, I take great care to tons of research to make sure everything is scientifically accurate. And while I don't go in to painstaking detail on every little thing they make, I at least mention in one way or another how they obtained something. This is mainly because I need to balance how enjoyable the story is to read with my own desire for scientific accuracy, and be it as it may, I understand that not everyone reading is all that interested in science and chemistry. But I do hope a lot of you are.**

 **And finally, thank you for reading!**

* * *

 **Power: Part 1**

"Ah! Mr. Stockwell, just in time. It took me a few days but I managed to shape the steel exactly how you drew it in the diagram. We just finished assembling all of the parts moments ago."

The blacksmith also nodded to Niven and the magic caster who had appeared in town recently.

He handed Stockwell the piece of parchment he had been working off of. He unrolled it and compared it to the mechanical monstrosity sitting outside the blacksmith's workshop. It was a massive steel boiler connected to all kinds of massive gears and weights. Tubes and valves stuck out of it like branches from a tree.

 _If he managed to make all of this in a matter of days, he might not even need steam power, oh well, can't hurt to have more tools at your disposal._

A solid steel crankshaft erupted from it's side and disappeared into a hole in the wall of the building.

They opened the door and stepped inside, taking heed of all the new mechanical additions. Giant weights and pulleys hung from the ceiling connected to steel pipes. Mechanical lathes, rolling machines, and saws stood silent, ready for action.

Stockwell nodded to himself. "Let's fire her up, and see how she runs."

They stepped outside and signalled to the two men at the boiler to light the coal and start it up. The shoveled coal and the furnace blasted to light. The smoke stacks began to spill blackish ash into the air.

They watched in anticipation when suddenly-

 ** _Creeeeeeeeeeeek_**

The boiler whined and the massive steel flywheel began to turn.

"Well then gentlemen, welcome to the era of steam power."

Niven and the blacksmith had sparkles in their eyes as they watched the massive steel flywheel gain speed. Vera looked on in curiosity.

Stockwell smiled ruefully. Ever since he was a little kid, he had loved steampunk and it was always his dream to build something like this. He remembered how back when he was boy he would stay up all night drawing pictures steampunk aircraft and steampunk warships before his mom caught him and forced him to go to bed. Needless to say, he knew how to make a steam engine with his eyes closed.

"Just make sure the boiler doesn't overheat. If you assembled it exactly the way I had designed it then it should trigger a safety valve if the pressure gets too high."

 _It wouldn't be hard to get this producing extra electricity for Mr. Faber's workshop later down the line as well._

The began to hear a high pitched whizzing coming from the inside of the workshop. It seemed that the steam powered saws and lathes had come online. He was entranced by the coolness of it all, it made him feel like a boy again.

 _Ahhhhh~ this is so cool._

He looked at Niven who was excitingly jumping up and down at the hauntingly enchanting sights and sounds of the mechanical beast.

He laughed and shook his head, they still had a load of other things the needed to be doing right now.. He smiled and patted the boy's head.

"Why don't we let Mr. Faber get acquainted with his new tools. We'll come and play around with them later, we have many more things we need to take care of right now."

Niven looked up at his master and gave him a big cheesy smile. "Hai!"

* * *

 **Weapons: Part 1**

Vera poked her head into the workshop. "Hello? Mr. Stockwell-"

"-Ah ha! Nice job Mr. Faber, you never cease to amaze me. They fit perfectly."

Stockwell was sitting at a workbench fiddling with varying sizes of metal tubes. He was fitting into each other and turning them around with a lever. He had just finished assembling them and he turned and locked the lever into place.

The muscly blacksmith called out from across the room. He held his head high with pride.

"D'aww well, it's thanks to this lathe of yours that I can make everything so precise."

A small burst of steam hissed out of a distant pipe as he pulled the lever that controlled the lathe. The metal cylinder began to spin rapidly and as he guided the bore into it.

"I'll have this next barrel done in no time."

Stockwell looked up and saw a pair of mismatched eyes staring at him from the doorway.

"Ah, Vera, you're here. I'm assuming Niven finished the batch then?"

Vera walked in and closed the door behind her. It was night so most of the villagers were sleeping, she didn't want to wake them up.

She revealed a mason jar with a tiny bit of yellowish-brown powder, it was labeled "Lead Styphnate".

"This was all he was able to make, he said he ran out of nitric acid."

Stockwell nodded like he expected it.

"That's fine, we have plenty of potassium hydroxide and useable plants here in Moot for making resorcinol. And comparatively, the only nitric acid we have was as a result of making nitrogen dioxide by running electrical current through the air, and then bubbling it through water, so it was a given that the nitric acid was going to be our limiting reagent when making the styphnic acid for the lead and magnesium styphnate."

Vera nodded because that was all she could do. There were only two people on the entire planet who could understand that level of jargon.

He took the jar from Vera and examined it.

"We're only using it as a primer, so this much is probably good for at least a hundred rounds or so. That's okay though, mass producing jacketed rounds is a ton of work, so we'll just keep them to ourselves and let everyone else use muzzle loading muskets and rifles."

He took a tiny copper tube that had been lying on the workbench and put a small amount of the powder in the jar inside. He took a pair of tweezers and clamped it close. He placed it face down on the table.

"Hopefully this works."

He grabbed the tiny hammer he had been using and hovered it over the little piece of copper. He quickly and precisely smashed it. **_Pop_**

He smiled at the tiny explosion it made.

"Seems like this will work just fine as a primer. Maybe I'll have you start assembling bullet cartridges now that you're here."

He perked up like he remembered something. "Ah! Speaking of which, you're just in time, this is yours."

He picked up the tubular metal contraption he had just been working on and handed it to Vera. She looked at it questioningly. She had been told earlier that he was making weapons for the two of them.

"It's the chamber and reload mechanism for your rifle. I made yours a bolt action because I figured that it would be a better fit for someone who is likely to stay at a range. It's much less convoluted than this-"

He reached underneath the workbench and pulled out another amalgamation of metal. It was slightly bulkier than Vera's and it had a long tube sticking out of it, it also used a couple of springs unlike Vera's.

"This is the reload mechanism for my rifle. I made it a lever action because I figured that the extra fire rate would be invaluable. It has a faster fire rate and a large clip but the disadvantage is that it could be prone to jamming and I have to use blunter ammunition. Yours on the other hand will hopefully never jam and you can use better ammunition. Oh, and since yours is better suited for sniping I had Mr. Faber cut these."

He reached under the workbench once more and pulled out half a dozen pieces of glass. They were cut into convex and concave circles.

"I was surprised to find out that this world's understanding of optics is actually pretty poor. But Mr. Faber is talented and it only took him a couple tries to get the right shapes. We can definitely fashion a working scope from these."

A hint of sadism leaked into his otherwise pleasant smile.

"You'll be a force to be reckoned with."

She had nearly zero idea what he was talking about so she nodded in feigned understanding.

The blacksmith's voice called out from the other end of the room. "I finished boring the lass's barrel, I should finish rifling it in no time."

"Excellent work Mr. Faber, hopefully we'll have everything assembled by tomorrow morning."

* * *

 **Power: Part 2**

"Okay, gently lower it in men!"

Stockwell directed the villagers as they lowered large steel pipes into trenches dug into the ground. They were on the side of the lake opposite of the village where the geothermal activity was closer to the surface.

They set the last pipe in place and beheld their handi work. It was a huge artery of steel pipes dug into trenches deep in the ground where the earth was incredibly hot. The pipes ran into something called a "turbine" and "armature" on one end, and then they ran up and around the top to connect to a massive steel reservoir of water on the other side. Copper wires zigzagged back and forth amongst the various apparatuses.

"Okay, now cover it all back up, that should help keep a lot of the heat in."

"Hai!"

 _We were lucky we found this sweet spot, It would've been difficult to build this closer to the hydrogen sulfide vents without proper respirators._

"Niven, stand by on the reservoir!"

"Hai!"

 _It's incredibly crude, but it should work nonetheless. Once we have a geothermal generator up and running, we'll be able to outfit a power grid for the village and it'll be that much easier to do things._

"Vera, keep ready on the ice magic just incase this becomes dangerous.'

"Hai!"

 _I didn't want to resort to using magic, but it's advantages can't be overlooked anymore._

"Okay! Niven, let her rip!"

Niven manually turned the pump on the reservoir and water rushed into the underground artery. It didn't take to long for steam to rush out the other side and spin the turbine.

 _I know this is an inefficient design, but this is more than enough to power a small village among other things. And I should really get some insulation for the wires, but this'll do for now._

The turbine whined and the armature began to spin.

"Okay! Niven, stop turning the pump, It should be powered now!"

"H-Hai!"

Niven let go of the pump and stepped back.

Everyone's eyes were growing wide.

"What the…"

"How is…."

The pump was working all on it's own.

 _Don't acted so impressed people, it's just a simple electric motor, all it is is just a coil of wire and a bearing._

"It looks like it's stable, you can relax Vera."

She relaxed her hands that were preparing and ice spell.

Stockwell clapped his hands together and addressed the villagers, "Well then gentlemen, we have electricity."

 _The electric motors we're using right now are incredibly rudimentary, so were going to be using steam power for things that need mechanical movement. However this should still be usable for large scale electrolysis._

He was still giddy after completing the steam engine so his smile was genuinely innocent. But as he thought about all the things they could make now, a little bit of evil crept into it.

* * *

 **Armor: Part 1**

Stockwell sat in his laboratory obsessing over a small piece of blackish-blue metal. He was beginning to lose his mind.

 _I don't understand at all!_

He was currently trying to determine the nature of the metal known as adamantite.

 _Is it even a metal!? It's a poor conductor of electricity, it's a poor conductor of heat, and it's unreasonably hard yet completely resistant to shattering!_

He was glaring at the little piece of metal murderously.

 _It won't react with any of the chemicals I throw at it! How does this thing even exist!? Does it just completely exist outside the realm of chemistry!? Ahhhh~ This is hurting my head..._

He put his palms to his face and drooped his head in defeat.

 _I have to accept that the only explanation is that it's a completely new form of matter. It's probably made of magic or some bull shit like that which is why it has no chemical properties whatsoever._

"Fine, whatever."

He picked up the little piece of metal and laid it atop a larger ingot of the same color.

"The ingot was expensive but I had to buy it to satiate my curiosity."

He picked up the ingot, it was about the same weight as steel. He headed for the door of his laboratory.

"Hopefully we can find a use for this.I'll see what Mr. Faber can make with this."

Just as he was about to open the door, someone came barging in from the other side.

"M-Master!"

"Oh, Niven, what's up my boy?"

Niven's messy black hair bounced excitedly with his body and his eyes were sparkling.

"I've got good news master! We found a whole bunch of the pink rocks you were looking for in the mine!"

"Oh, you found bauxite?"

Niven nodded and smiled proudly. "Uh huh!"

Stockwell looked back at the ingot of adamantite he was holding in his hands.

 _This gives me an idea._

* * *

 **Weapons: Part 2**

Stockwell, Niven, Vera, and a skeleton were shoveling salt into a small pond that they had dug next to the geothermal generator. The little pond was bisected by some kind of membrane.

"I can't believe the villagers didn't chase me out when they learned I was a necromancer. You must be really respected if all it took was one word from you to stop them, Mr. Stockwell."

Niven cut in, full of smiles. "Well of course! Master saved our village after all!"

"Is that so…" _I was right then, Mr. Stockwell really is a kind and fair deity._

Stockwell nodded. "Yeah, they were facing a water crisis so I gave them a method of cleaning their water with chemistry. Oh, and please, call me Wesley."

 _Oh that's right, I forgot he had a first name. Everyone just calls him Mr. Stockwell._

She blushed slightly. "Okay, Wesley-sama."

"What's that? Sama? I'm not one for outlandish honorifics."

"Wesley-san?"

"What is it with this world and everyone using japanese honorifics all the time? Just call me Wesley, honorifics aren't a big deal where I come from, and I'm already calling you Vera anyways.

Her blush increased by an order of magnitude. "I-If you insist... Wesley."

Stockwell nodded and stopped his shoveling.

"Alright, looks like that's all the sodium chloride she'll take, stop your shoveling."

They nodded and put down their shovels, the skeleton crumpled into a pile of ash.

Stockwell walked a little ways over to the geothermal generator and grabbed a pair of electrodes. They were simple pieces of iron connected to copper wires. He dragged them over to the pond.

"Niven, Vera, put the cover over it."

"Hai."

They dragged the heavy ceramic cover over the pond. Two holes had been cut into it that rested over either section of the pond.

Stockwell held one of the electrodes up.

"This is the cathode, it will readily give away electrons."

He lowered it into one of the holes. He gently laid down the copper wire, making sure the cathode was safely suspended in the brine underneath.

"This will create hydroxide ions and hydrogen from the water as well as attract the positively charged sodium ions to this side. We should get sodium hydroxide and hydrogen gas forming on this side once we complete the circuit.

He held up the other electrode.

"This one is the anode and will readily accept electrons. It will attract the negatively charged chlorine ions to this side of the pond and form chlorine gas. So let's see if this works."

He gently lowered the anode into the other hole.

Niven and Vera waited in silence as Stockwell began to sniff around the anode. He nodded when he smelled something.

"Yes, its working, I'm already starting to smell the chlorine. I imagine hydrogen is already coming out of that side as well. Vera, can you ignite your hand as if you were preparing a fire spell?"

"Hai."

She focused and her hand went aflame.

"Excellent, go ahead and hover it over the hole on that side."

She held her hand over the opening. The flame in her hand jiggled and the three of them could hear faint popping noises.

Stockwell nodded. "Excellent, it seems that bubbles of hydrogen are being produced on that side as well. Alright, go ahead and put the compressors on top."

Niven and Vera placed two small steel drums over the holes, making sure to leave a small opening for the wires on the electrodes.

Stockwell hooked them up to the geothermal generator and they began to hum quietly. "Again, we're using incredibly rudimentary electric motors, but they should be good enough for simple gas compressors."

Stockwell clapped his hands together. "We'll go ahead and let this run for a while."

They nodded and began to head back to the village across the lake.

They now had a usable source of sodium hydroxide, hydrogen gas, and most importantly, chlorine gas.

He did his best to hide his demented smile.

* * *

 **Armor: Part 2**

Stockwell presented the blacksmith with a large glob of silvery metal. The moment Mr. Faber got his hands on it his eyes grew wide. He had initially thought it was silver, but instead-

"I-It's light! What is this!?"

Stockwell shook his head ruefully. "It's called aluminium, it was hell to make. Vera nearly died three times from explosions and mana exhaustion trying to get the temperature hot enough during the process of isolating it. Thankfully we had her lightning spells and enough sodium hydroxide from electrolysis for the Deville method."

The blacksmith was quivering with excitement as he was imaging all of the incredible things he could make with the mysterious lightweight metal.

"Don't get too excited Mr. Faber, all we have right now is that glob and a few more kilograms make at my laboratory. Probably only enough to make a small set of armor. And while I think aluminium wouldn't be the worst thing to make armor out of, I think we can do it one better."

"So what do you want me to make with this then?"

"I used the last of the coin from our last shipment of steel to buy two ingots of adamantite. I want you to alloy it with the aluminium and make a set of armor."

The blacksmith fantasized as to what incredible properties an alloy such as that would have. His muscular face curled up into a gleeful smile.

"So what kind of armor are you aiming at then?"

"I'm thinking a mail-and-plate kind of armor, something that wouldn't be too bulky and could be easily hidden under a cloak."

The blacksmith nodded in agreement. "Good choice, I think it's lightweight properties would be best utilized like that. Alright then, I'll get to it Mr. Stockwell."

The blacksmith disappeared to his forge with the glob of metal and Stockwell went back to his laboratory to get the extra aluminium and adamantite.

* * *

 **Weapons: Part 3**

Stockwell's focus was at its peak as he hunched over the small ceramic plate in front of him. He was carefully using tweezers to precisely lay out glowing metal wire into various shapes.

"Woah! Mater! Look at your hands!"

"Woah, Mr. Stockwell, the boy's right! Your hands are amazing!"

Niven and the blacksmith watched in awe as Stockwell's hands moved swiftly and precisely about the plate, he was creating after images as he handled the glowing wire. He didn't know it, but Stockwell was actually using his newly founded chemist job class subconsciously, which temporarily increased his hand dexterity.

He didn't seem to notice however because he was incredibly focused on what he was doing.

"Mr. Faber, keep the wire coming."

"H-Hai."

The blacksmith was handling a glowing chunk of copper and was using [Greater Shape Metal] to slowly feed wire to Stockwell.

"Niven, capacitor."

"Hai."

Niven held out a small bowl filled with weirdly shaped metal, glass, and ceramic objects. Stockwell swiftly grabbed one and planted it into the ceramic plate he was working on.

"Diode."

"This is the last one."

Niven presented a small glass tube with metal inside. Stockwell grabbed it without looking.

"That's fine, that's the last one I need anyways."

"What are we doing again master?"

"I'm no electrical engineer, but I do know enough of the basics to make a simple voltage multiplying circuit- Ah ha, we're done."

Stockwell gripped his forehead in pain. He figured he was just having a headache, but it was actually because he had used up all of his mana.

"What is it?"

They both looked at the strange thing that the scientist had made. It was a weird criss crossing of wires and other metal bits. There was a pair of wires sticking out from one end of it.

"It's a taser. However, due to the fact that the materials we're working with are ceramic, glass, and paper, the diodes and capacitors will probably all fry the moment we get any real current going through the circuit. It's probably a one time use only."

"What's a taser?"

"Its an electrical weapon that creates a high voltage to stun your attacker. Do you remember that Zinc you showed me the other day that you were so proud of isolating?"

Niven but his hand on the back of the head and nodded sheepishly. "Oh yeah, what about it."

"I made this with it."

He reached under the table and produced a large black box about a foot in diameter.

"I combined it with some of the pyrolusite, manganese dioxide we had to make a battery. Its pretty rudimentary, but I already tested it out and it's definitely capable of generating electricity."

 _And once I get a better materials, I could probably make it go from stun to kill._

His slightly sinister smile was beginning to suit him.

* * *

 **Armor: Part 3**

Vera walked into the laboratory holding a heavy black coat.

"I finished the coat, W-Wesley."

Stockwell pulled a crucible out of the furnace in the corner of the room using a pair of tongs and placed it on top.

"Ah, excellent. Did you coat it with the fire retardant?"

"Yeah, the chloro...chlorina…"

"The chlorinated alkyds, nice job- Well, I say alkyds, but I was using glycerol from animal tallow so it's probably riddled with impurities. Regardless, it should still work as a fire retardant. Did you also finish the gas masks?"

"Yeah, here they are."

She revealed a pair of masks from underneath the coat. They were black and made of leather. They had large glass windows for the eyeholes and a pair of oddly shaped cylinders distended downward from where the mouths and cheeks were. She shivered when she looked at them. Something about the way the eyes looked like the hollow eye sockets of skull and how the maw transformed into an unnatural looking cylinder made the masks eerily sinister.

"Good, just in time, I just finished activating the carbon."

He dumped the black powder out of the crucible into a cup and walked over to Vera. He took the masks from her and opened their cylinders.

"-Ah, nice job, you made them exactly how I drew them in the diagram."

He poured the activated carbon into the filters.

"This should protect us from much of the chlorine, but to make sure we are completely safe, could you go ahead and hand me that beaker sitting next to you?"

Vera looked at the workbench and saw the beaker he was referring to. It was willed with small white crystals. She put the coat down and handed it to Stockwell.

"Thank you, this is sodium thiosulphate, It was pretty simple to make with just sodium hydroxide and sulfur. And don't let the 'thio' in the name scare you though, the sulfur isn't bonded to carbon so it;s completely odorless, so you can rest easy. It will react with any chlorine gas that manages to get past the activated carbon so we should be 100% safe."

Vera simply nodded. She wasn't like Niven who could understand the chemical jargon Stockwell was constantly spouting.

He finished putting the sodium thiosulphate in the filters and closed up the gas mask.

"That should do it."

He perked up suddenly as if remembering something.

"Oh, I've been meaning to test something out. Come with me, we're going to go play with lighting."

...

The two of them stood near the geothermal generator. In front of vera was a target that stood behind several metal poles that stuck out of the ground like stalagmites.

She focused and guided her mana to her hands. She unleashed one of her most powerful spells. It was a third tier.

[Lightning!]

A bolt of lightning shot forth from her fingers in a straight line. It beelined directly to the target, completely ignoring the metal rods.

Stockwell shook his head ruefully. "It amazes me every time, the spell completely ignores the basic nature of lightning and ignores the conductors as if guided by magic."

Vera chuckled, "It is guided by magic, but I do indeed feel a slight pull from the metal rods but it isn't much, it would probably collide with one of them if I wasn't focused on aiming. I think people sometimes use that to their advantage and make the lighting jump from person to person when they're wearing metal armor."

Stockwell nodded. "Hmmm, I see. In that case why don't you try aiming for the target again. And this time, try as hard as you can to avoid the metal rods."

Vera nodded and channeled her mana once more.

[Lightning!]

The moment she released her spell, she suddenly felt a massive tug on her fingers as if she was being pulled forward by the lighting bolt.

"What the!?"

She stumbled forward and the lightning bolt absorbed into one of the metal rods that had a coil of wire around it.

Stockwell smiled, he seemed pleased.

"Ahh, it seems all it needs is a little encouragement and the caster loses control of it's path."

He stepped forward and examined the rod that the lighting had just struck.

"If you're wondering about what had happened, I connected this up to the generator when you were channeling your mana. It became an electromagnet and attracted your lightning bolt. Your spell got absorbed into the positive terminal and harmlessly ran aground... though it is a little odd that it works likes that, it can't be normal lightning if it interacts so strongly with a magnetic field..."

"What does that mean?"

Stockwell began reclaiming the copper wire and let off a fiendish smile.

"Regardless! It means that we're finally ready to raise some hell."


	7. Dinner and a Show

Marquis Raeven had always suspected that there was more to the Golden Princess than what meets the eyes. But he never expected her to be so ruthlessly intelligent to such a degree.

After Climb had left the room and they were alone, he was able to see her true nature. She had already determined that he was the secret leader of the Royalty faction with her monstrous intelligence.

As the discussion continued however, Raeven was able to calm down from his initial shock. They had currently only talked about his alignments and other pleasantries.

"So, what is your real reason for calling me here, your highness?"

The Golden princess smiled pleasantly but did not bother to hide the malevolence in her eyes. She sat on the couch opposite him happily sipping tea.

"Have you heard of the steel trader? The commoner named Mr. Wesley?"

Raven racked his brain, he did indeed recall the name of the steel trader who had been making news recently.

"Yes, I've heard of him. The nobles are calling him the 'Grey Wolf'. I heard that he's a ruthless businessman, what of him?"

Renner put down her tea and smiled sweetly.

"He is absorbing the kingdom's ore refineries at an alarming rate, he'll likely have a complete monopoly on our metal by the end of the year. And I suspect that once he has complete control over the kingdom's metal he'll try to leverage politics. Rumor has it that he's already sitting atop a mountain of gold as we speak, Hehe~ The nobles are terrified of him."

Raeven smirked. It was only natural that the greedy and pompous lot would be scared about a commoner gaining enough power to threaten their holdings.

"The reason I called you here is to discuss this."

She laid a piece of parchment on the little tea table. Raeven examined it with his snake-like eyes.

"A ball at the palace. What of it? They happen all the time."

"The Grey Wolf's name is on the guest list. I suspect the noble faction will try to make a move on him then."

Raeven nodded in understanding.

"So what do you think they'll do to get him on their side?"

"I do not know what they plan to do, but it is clear that they are terrified. So I suspect that even though he is a commoner, they will probably try to implore father to grant him a noble title. That, or they'll try to bribe him some other way.

"Do you think he will accept."

Renner simply shrugged.

"I am unsure, I do not know enough about him."

"I see. Then are you suggesting we try recruit him to our side first before they make their move?"

Renner smiled and nodded in her scarily saccharin fashion.

Raeven shuddered and continued, "Yes, I see, If he is indeed able to obtain a monopoly, he could become a valuable tiebreaker in the power struggle between the Royal and Noble factions. How do you suppose we get to him?"

"As I have said before, I do not know enough about him. If he is motivated by avarice, then we'll have to convince him that our side will be more lucrative. But if we discover that he has different motivations, then we'll just have to work from there. Needless to say, we should endeavor to start talks with him as soon as possible."

Raeven nodded, "I presume I'll be attending the ball then?"

Renner simply looked up sweetly at him.

"I-I see…"

Raeven suddenly remembered something. "Ah, and speaking of which, there is another person who I think we can recruit to our side."

Renner cocked her head innocently. "Hmm?"

"I only saw him once, but I can say for certain some of his values overlap with ours. His name is Rhamnusia."

...

The forgemaster slumped his shoulders in defeat and handed Stockwell the key to the warehouse.

"Here you are, Mr. Wesley. I hope you take good care of her."

Stockwell gave the short muscular man a polite bow before taking the key

"Awww, please don't sound like that Mr. Kurzog, you're a retired man now."

Mr. Kurzog was saddened to see his business become prey for the Grey Wolf, but there was nothing he could do against him. He walked off sadly into the night.

Stockwell watched his back retreat down the road. After he was out of sight he turned to the boy next to him.

"Aright then Niven boy, do you think you can manage to get everything in order for when we start making another bessemer?"

Niven looked up at his master and smiled. "Of course! Just like last time!"

"That's the spirit. Vera and I'll be gone for the rest of the night so you'll be on your own."

"Wait what? Why?"

"We've been invited by some nobles to attend a ball at the royal palace."

"What!? Really!? With Miss Vera!?"

Niven bounced up and down excitedly.

"Yes, hopefully we won't be gone too long."

"Okay! Have fun master!"

Niven bowed to his master and disappeared into the warehouse and Stockwell headed down the road toward their temporary residence in the capital.

...

Vera looked at herself in the mirror. She gazed in awe at the elegant piece of mail-and-plate armor that the blacksmith had crafted to perfectly fit her body.

Adamantite with it's blackish-blue and, aluminium with it's brilliant silver could both be pretty metals on their own when polished, but when combined together into the alloy that the blacksmith had dubbed, "Stygilight", the effect was infinitely more stunning.

It's color could only be described as the surface of the ocean in the dead of night, pitch black, with subtle hints of blue and green, with the occasional curtain of moonlight washing it with a silvery sheen. The dark metal's hues changed with every subtle movement of the head, emphasising the green and blue pigments in the otherwise black metal to stunning effect.

The mail-and-plate tightly hugged every curve and contour of her delicate frame. It's dark plates wrapped firmly around every subtle bend of her back and sides, and its glinting mesh of rings rested easily on her bare breasts and shapely bottom. In the well lit room, the armor's ever changing dark colors contrasted and extenuated her porcelain skin to bewitching consequence.

And yet-

"It weighs almost nothing..."

As an alloy of aluminium, stygilight is already expected to be a light metal, but when made with adamantite enchanted with [lesser mitigate weight], it's lightness is even more apparent.

Vera turned her body in the mirror, taking in the pleasant sensation of the cold armor on her bare skin.

"I can't believe such an amazing metal exists…"

As an alloy of adamantite, it is also excels in hardness and shatter resistance. It would take a very skilled swordsman with an excellent blade to even scratch it.

She wondered how Stockwell looked wearing his. She blushed and shook her head, finishing her marveling. It was only for protection and would not actually be needed during the ball. She had been wearing it entirely out of curiosity.

She turned to the box that contained her dress. She had yet to seen it

While in the cult, she had only ever worn one thing, a black cloak, and while in the outside world, she wore either simple clothes or a brown cloak. As such, she had never grown a sense of fashion or even a particular interest in such things.

However she had been told by stockwell that she needed to wear this dress in particular, and that he had had it specially made.

She pulled it out of the box and gawked.

"H-How expensive was this?"

She heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and a man walking in.

"Vera, are you ready yet?"

She heard Stockwell's voice come from behind the closed door.

"S-Sorry, just a little longer please!"

"Don't worry, take your time, I still have to get ready as well. We're going to be arriving fashionably late anyways"

She hurriedly took off the plate mail and began to put on the dress.

…

Marquis Boullope tapped his foot in annoyance. He was sitting at a table in the middle of the ballroom.

"Where is that damn commoner!? He should've be honored to be in our presence and arrived before us, yet it's already been an hour since we got here!"

He reached behind him to grab a cup of wine off a waiter's tray. He swigged it angrily.

The noble sitting across from him leaned in. "Marquis Boullope, you're being too loud."

Boullope crossed his arms with a *Harumph* and took another angry swig from his cup. "Do you think the damn wolf's a no show?"

"He might've gotten scared of the venue and ran off. A commoner would only make a fool of himself here anyways. "

Just then they heard the ballroom's announcer.

" _Now entering, the owner of Wesley Trading Company, Mr. Wesley."_

The countless women with their beautifully swaying gowns and well dressed men all turned their attention to the door. They had known that the commoner was on the guest list but they had figured he wouldn't seriously show up.

Boullope stood angrily. "Finally-!"

They had expected a shy commoner to waltz in and make a fool of himself.

And if they were startled before, now they were blown away.

The man walking in was no mere commoner. He was tall and his sharp features looked to be artfully chiseled from stone, it spoke of a quietly composed power. His graying hair was neatly trimmed atop his head. He looked every part a "Grey Wolf". He was undeniably handsome and the women in the ballroom couldn't help but swoon when they saw him.

Boullope along with all the other men in the room froze when they saw the woman blushing at his arm.

Her raven hair was styled behind her head and rolled down in swaying curls. An elaborate piece of jewelry caressed her forehead and hid her left eye so that only her obsidian one was showing. She wore a set of earrings and a necklace made from a mysteriously beautiful dark metal. In the ideal lighting, she might've even be able to rival the beautiful princess Nabe.

But the most shocking thing about her appearance was not her innate beauty, but the gown she was wearing. It was so black that it looked to be cut straight from the night sky. It was apparent from all the way across the room that her gown was made from fabric of the highest possible quality. The black dress had been embroidered with threads of platinum and gold so that when it swayed, it would flicker like a starry sky. The effect was bewitching as they walked through the door.

Stockwell also wore clothing that was probably just expensive as her's. He wore an outfit of fine silk and furs, entwined with copious amounts of gold and silver thread. Intricate patterns were sewn into the clothing along with small jewels. His outfit would probably rival the six great nobles in sheer cost.

Stockwell saw that everyone was staring at them. He did everything he could to suppress his smirk. He gave a subtle glance to the nobles sitting at the table. Not enough to be blatant to the onlookers, but just enough to let the nobles know he was looking at them.

 _Oh don't mind me ladies and gentlemen, I know how this game goes. You invite a commoner to the ball assuming he'll humiliate himself, then you swoop in and capitalize on his embarrassment. Well I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen but I'm going to have to beat you at your own game. Muhahaha! This is going to be fun! It seems spending nearly the entire company profit on these outfits was the right call._

Through the course of his life on earth, Stockwell had to meet and act pleasantly with businessmen all the time. He had learned to hide his overflowing hatred.

He bowed with unreal elegance and addressed the room. "Apologies for my tardiness ladies and gentlemen, I had more important things to take care of."

Boullope was fuming,.

"He! He!...-"

The noble on the other side of the table finished his sentence. "He's making a fool out of us…"

The music began to play again and the gawkers hurriedly resumed their activities.

Stockwell turned to Vera and spoke to her softly. "I'm an expert when it comes to these kinds of things, just follow my lead."

Vera nodded and they started making their way to the table.

The noble leaned over to Boullope who practically had steam coming off his head in rage. "The wolf is coming over, what do we do?"

Boullope was glaring at Stockwell as he walked over, who simply returned his gaze with a pleasant smile. "We stick to the plan."

"Wait but Marquis are you sure you're okay to be friends with him, you don't seem to be in the calmest mindset right now."

Boullope ignored him, he took a deep breath and forced a smile.

Stockwell made his way to the table.

"Well it's good to finally meet you gentlemen, I must thank you for allowing a commoner such as myself come to such a prestigious venue."

Boullope was panicking on the inside. _Who is this man!? His posture is immaculate!_

Stockwell stuck out his hand for a handshake.

"I'm Mr. Wesley, nice to meet you."

 _He's just a commoner! He should be groveling at my feet! Ahhhhh! Fine, I'll shake the damn hand if that's what it takes._

Boullope hid his duress and smiled. As he reached out to meet his hand, Stockwell suddenly stopped.

"Oh, pardon me, I have cold, I wouldn't want you getting sick."

Stockwell swiftly pulled out a handkerchief and shielded his hand before shaking Boullope's

Boullope's face froze. His eye twitched. It took every ounce of will to not explode at the impudent commoner.

"I-It's no trouble at all, Mr. Wesley."

Stockwell gestured to the women next to him, "This is my companion, Vera."

Vera curtsied and Boullope couldn't help but look at her enviously. _I bet he thinks he's some bigshot escorting such a high class beauty._

She felt his lustful gaze and shuddered.

Boullope replied with a scornful nod and gestured to the noble next to him.

"This is Count Lytton."

"Pleasure."

They did not shake hands under the context that Stockwell had a cold, which of course everyone knew was a lie. They sat down at the table with them.

Boullope had so far only been made a fool of, so even if they had brought him here to win him over, he at least need to get one punch in.

"You're wearing rather odd clothes for a commoner. Most of us here were expecting you to show up in rags."

Stockwell simply returned with a smile.

"A thousand apologies, I wasn't aware that you would be dressed so poorly. You must be embarrassed sitting at the same table as us."

Stockwell gave a short bow.

Boullope's eye twitched again. He heard snickering coming from somewhere behind him.

 _Goddamnit! I'm losing face! Hurry! Say something Boullope!_

"Oh no, sorry Mr. Wesley, it's not that, It's just that those clothes seem rather expensive, it must have cost you your entire fortune."

"Hmm? Oh no, my wealth comes from industry and it continues to grow by the second, so I can afford to buy these kinds of things. Someone like you whose holdings have been stagnant for the last several years probably wouldn't understand."

He heard snickering coming from behind him once more. His face twitched. Luckily Lytton was there to save him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wesley, speaking of your business, there is something that we would like to talk about."

"Hmmm? And what could that be?"

Lytton put on his best smile and leaned in closer so that only those around the table could hear them.

"How would you like to join the noble faction? We could offer you wealth and maybe even a noble title."

Stockwell looked at him with a perfectly innocent questioning face.

"Now why would I want to do that?"

"Ha?"

Lytton and Boullope were frozen.

Vera tugged on Stockwell's arm, making sure that everyone around the tale saw it.

Stockwell nodded and turned to the two nobles.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, but my companion here has been dying for a dance since we got here and It would be rude of me to ignore her any longer. We will have to discuss this some other time."

"Why you insolent-!"

He stood and took Vera's arm in his. He lead her to the dance floor without giving them a chance to respond. He struggled to hide his smirk.

"D-Did I do alright? Wesley?"

"Your timing couldn't have been better."

Stockwell smirked. He had expected the the nobles had invited him to try to schmooze him, but he didn't expect to go as far as to offer a commoner a noble title. He figured that they must've been terrified of his wealth.

 _We're not even that rich yet, we just made it look that way. This is just too funny._

Men and women got out of their way as they walked toward the dance floor.

"Wesley, everyone is watching us."

"Hmm?"

He looked around, it did in fact seem that everyone was taking glances at them.

 _They're probably wanting to see how a commoner dances. We've already made quite the impression so far. I bet they'll piss their pants when they see our dance._

He smiled evilly and looked to Vera.

"Don't worry Vera, if they're going to me judging anyone, they'll be judging me. They wouldn't dare criticize a beautiful women like yourself."

Vera blushed, "If you say so."

"Do you remember the dance steps I showed you earlier?"

"Hai."

"Good, then take my hand and follow my lead."

Vera nodded and thus they began to dance.

Stockwell was no amatur when it came to these kinds of things, he used to be the wealthiest man in the world after all. He had danced in the all of the most prestigious ballrooms on earth with the finest dance instructors. He guided Vera and their dance captured every eyeball in the room.

"Wesley, why did you refuse the deal to become a noble? Isn't that a big deal? If we make them mad, couldn't they forcibly take action against your business?"

She twirled and wrapped herself into his arms. He the elegantly stepped and unraveled her. Her gown twirled in a brilliant squall of black, dazzling the onlookers.

"When Andrew Carnegie was creating his monopoly, he at least had competent competitors, no, in this world, I truly am a wolf among sheep. Even if they somehow manage to stop me from completing my monopoly, Rhamnusia will be there to back us up. And besides, wasn't it fun to see that noble's eye twitch? "

Vera giggled as she twirled into his embrace once more. They continued to dance for a long time. Stockwell could tell the the nobles were fuming.

"-Ah, It seems someone is looking at us."

"But isn't everyone looking at us?"

Vera unraveled. Her hair and gown sparkled in the ballroom's lights. She was undeniably the most beautiful woman in the room.

"No, not like that. Why don't we end our dance here?"

Vera nodded sadly, she had been scared at first, but she really did rather enjoy the dance. She couldn't help but feel like a young maiden, blushing as she danced with a handsome gentleman.

However, even though she was always looking at Stockwell's face, he was always taking glances and smirking at the nobles in the room whenever he could. She had already known that it was all just a game to anger the nobles for him.

They waited for the final cadence of the music and completed their closing set of moves. Vera jumped into his arms and they ended in a dip.

The onlookers couldn't help but clap. Stockwell and Vera bowed and made their way over to an empty table to cool off.

Boullope and Lytton had been watching the whole time, receiving the cocky glances from Stockwell.

"That damn wolf, he never had any intention of joining us from the start. He's been deliberately making fools of the nobility. I can't believe the gall of that bastard!"

"Then what do we do Marquis?"

"We get the eight fingers involved, the sooner the better."

"Are you serious?"

"Do we have any other options? His character is too perfect and we can't touch his company, at least not to any notable degree without the royal's help. We can't tempt him with concubines either, not when he has that kind of woman at his arm. But If he isn't lying dead in a ditch by next year, he'll have this whole kingdom by the throat."

"Do you really think that'll happen?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to find out the hard way."

"I see, in that case- Hey! Who's that!?"

They both craned their necks to see someone walk up to Stockwell.

"Hey! Isn't that Raeven? What's that bat doing here? Hey look! He's sucking up to the commoner!"

The were able to spy Raeven kneeling down to kiss Vera's hand and then shake hands with Stockwell.

"Shouldn't we stop Raeven?"

"No, I think he'll give Raeven the same treatment."

They were shocked when he was immediately proved wrong. They saw Stockwell begin to get up and walk towards the door with Raeven.

Raven smiled and led the way, "Why don't get some fresh air, Mr. Wesley?"

Stockwell smiled and followed him out the door. "Of course."

...

"I apologise for assuming you were just a mere commoner, forgive me Mr. Wesley."

Stockwell walked along side Raeven through the palace's courtyard. The nighttime air was refreshing.

"Not at all."

 _Even if this guy is a noble, he's at least tolerable. I might be able to use him. Perhaps I'll spare him once I take over this kingdom. I might as well see what he has to offer me._

"So where are we going then, Marquis?"

It was subtle, but Stockwell noticed that he was looking around, as if he was looking for spies.

"We're going to visit the princess of this kingdom, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself."

Stockwell recalled the members of the royal family. He seemed to be confused.

"Isn't she only sixteen? Why would someone like her want to talk to me?"

Raeven shook his ruefully, "I think you'll find out soon enough. We're here."

They rounded the corner and came to a door. There was a youth in full mythril armor guarding the door.

He approached them. Raeven seemed surprised and got out of boy's way.

"I'm going to have to take any weapons you might have before I allow you to see the princess."

"Wait Climb, this is our guest, I doubt he has any weapons on-"

"-It's alright."

Stockwell felt under his clothes and undid his dagger. He hesitated when he was about to hand it to the boy. He felt like he was giving him a little bit of his soul, he didn't know why. He shook the thought out of his head and handed it to Climb.

Raeven looked at him questioningly, "Why did you have that on you?"

"It's a kill or be killed world."

He looked at Climb and handed it to him. "Keep it safe."

Climb nodded and opened the door. Raeven and Stockwell walked in.

Climb didn't know why he asked the man for weapons, but perhaps he sensed something from him and his desire to protect the princess had flared up.

He pulled the dagger from its sheath and examined it. It was just a simple piece of steel but it gave of an ominous feeling, like it was possessed by a malicious spirit. He then turned his attention to the hilt and he shuddered. There were eight tally marks inscribed into the handle. Stockwell had been keeping track of how many people he had killed with it.

…

Stockwell sensed that something was off. He had walked into the little room after Raeven. Sitting across from them was the Golden Princess as well as Prince Zanack.

 _Something is wrong._

The Prince seemed normal enough, but he looked uncomfortable. Raeven also seemed incredibly on edge the moment they walked into the room, but the Golden Princess was all smiles.

 _Is it something about the princess? Shit, I've been standing to long, I need to bow. I would've avoided this if I knew the prince was going to be here as well._

It was incredibly hard for him to do. It was against his nature to bow in deference to authority. The only way he was able to do it was to trick himself into thinking he was doing it out of spite. He began to force himself onto one knee.

"Oh! You don't have to bow if you don't want to. I understand!"

Renner smiled innocently at him, Zanack and Raeven were stunned.

Stockwell stopped himself out of surprise. Suddenly his eyes lit up. _Oh, I get it now._

"Wait, Princess, that's against-"

"-Hehehe."

Stockwell began to chuckle.

He looked at Renner's smiling face. She no longer tried to hide her true nature. Their eyes met in understanding.

"Well isn't that terrifying. I've met people like you before, but never so young. You read me like a book little lady. You're right, I do indeed hate bowing."

Stockwell sat on the couch and dropped his pleasant facade.

"So what do you royal and noble bastards want with me?" His animosity was directed to the other males in the room.

Raeven and Zanack stood up, even though they were sensible people, Stockwell was getting way too far out of line for a commoner.

"Mr. Wesley! You-"

"Relax onii-sama, he's fine."

Her smile stunk of artificial saccharine, she turned to Stockwell.

"I think we can help each other."

…

Stockwell walked back into the ballroom, it seemed that the ball was wrapping up and people were already going home. Boullope and Lytton were nowhere to be found.

He found Vera sitting all by herself.

She stood up when she saw him approaching.

"Wesley! I was beginning to get worried, you were taking so long, what happened?"

He took her hand and guided her to the door.

"I ended up making an unexpected ally. What about you? Did anything happen on your end?"

Vera looked down and shook her head. "No. Boullope and Lytton left right after you did and no one else would approach me. That's okay though, I'm used to it."

"I think it's just because everyone was intimidated by your beauty. They must have been frightened to approach you."

Vera blushed madly, she had never once thought of it like that.

"Now I think it's time we've made our leave, it seems like the ball is pretty much over anyways."

She nodded and took his arm. They walked out the door and boarded the carriage that they had hired.

...

After a short ride, they landed at their residence and payed the driver.

They walked up to the door and Stockwell put his hand on the door knob. Suddenly he froze.

"What is it Wesley?"

"The door is open, someone's been here."

He opened the door and they walked in cautiously. The place had been robbed clean. Stockwell began immediately racing around for clues.

"Wait. Wesley. Look at this."

Vera bent over and picked up a note off the ground. She began to read it.

"Oh god, it's the eight-fingers. It says 'This is what you get for not knowing your place.' It says that they also raided all the warehouses and that they have Niven"

"Give it here."

Stockwell practically ripped it from her hands and began to read. "They want us to meet with them."

He crumpled the note and threw it on the ground. He began to pry at one of the floor boards.

"W-What are we going to do? Should we get the guards."

"I doubt they would help us. No, we're going to meet them all right."

He lifted the floor board, revealing a hidden compartment underneath. Two gas masks stared back at them.

"We're going to kill them all."

Vera couldn't see what kind of facial expression he was making, but she didn't dare to check.

...

"Did we really need to bring the entire six-arms for this? What's some rich kid going to do?"

Zero snorted at the snake of a man known as Succulent.

"A certain noble payed us a lot of money to do this, we're not here to simply kill him, but to make an example of him. And even though the guards have already been payed off, he may still have his own private forces so we need to be ready."

"What if he doesn't show up?"

The answer came from a man wearing full plate armor, Pesylian.

"We stole practically all of his company's assets along with his apprentice-"

"-Ohhhh, that adorable little boy. What was his name again? Nigel? He better show up or he might end up as a toy for Cocco doll~"

The lancer, Malmvist licked his sword seductively.

"Isn't this wolf guy a little late though?"

They were standing in a wide open courtyard that looked to be a training area, bonfires blazed lazily and covered the area in red light. Zero looked up to the tall building at the end of the courtyard. He could see the bored and twisted faces of the bigwigs who had come down for the show.

"They're probably getting anxious. They want to see us toy with him. Hopefully he doesn't take much longer to get here."

…

Stockwell stood before the main gate, he was still in his formal wear and all he had was a rifle strapped to his back to avoid suspicion. The walls around him were dark and enclosing, like a prison, or perhaps a fortress. The gate was lattice-shaped, so he could peer through it, but the trees within prevented him from seeing too far inside.

"Oi, aren't you a little late?" a voice asked hoarsely. Following that, a man stepped out from among the trees.

He walked to the gate and opened it.

"This way. Follow me."

Stockwell stepped inside, but didn't proceed any further.

"Would you mind looking here for a second?"

"Huh?"

The man looked at Stockwell, or rather he looked down the barrel of the weird metal stick that he had just pulled from his back.

"What is it?"

"I just wanted to thank you for opening the gate for us."

Stockwell pulled the trigger and the man's head erupted into a shower of blood. His body crumpled to the ground.

Vera appeared behind him carrying a load of equipment.

Stockwell looked her over, "You said that you would follow me, no matter how bloody, correct?"

She nodded with conviction. "Of course."

"Then keep your wits about you, I might just lose mine."

Stockwell's mouth twisted upward in anticipation.

…

"Someone's coming. No, two people."

The Elder Lich, Davernoc, craned his head. As a member of the undead, he had superb night vision and could see much further down the shadowy courtyard.

The scimitar wielder, Edstrom squinted but couldn't see, "Should we get Zero from the viewing box then?"

Succulent cut in, "We didn't need Zero's help in the first place. He's probably just here to make a deal."

He smiled sadistically.

"I can't wait to see his face when he realises he's going to die."

"No, something's wrong, I don't think they're here to make a deal, It's hard to tell but I think they're armed."

Davernoc focused his vision down the shadowy courtyard. "Yes, they're wielding strange looking staves."

"Ha? Do they seriously intend to fight with just the two of them? Against the entire six-arms?"

The two strangers stepped into the light of the courtyard.

The members of the six-arms were all seasoned fighters and were all very confident in their skills, as such they did not think for a second that they could lose to a pair of strangers. However- and it was only for a moment, they shivered when they saw the pair.

Stepping into the light of a courtyard was a man who appeared to be heavily armed.

He wore a heavy black cloak that completely shrouded his entire body, and strapped across his chest was a bandolier of cylindrical metal canisters about the size of relay batons. Attached to the front of his cloak around where a breast pocket would be was a sheathed dagger that gave off an ominous feeling.

Strapped to his back was some kind of black box, an antenna sprouted out of it's side and rose up a meter above his head. Also strapped to his back was some kind of bulky staff made of wood and metal.

The most disturbing thing however was the mask that he was wearing. It's large, hollow eyes looked like that of a skull's eye sockets, or perhaps an alien monster. The mask's maw distorted into a large, unnatural cylinder that distended downward from the jaw. Another cylinder also distended from one of the cheeks, giving the mask and uncomfortably asymmetrical look. The mask was a twisted perversion of the elegant human form. They shivered, it made them feel like a group of cornered lab rats, about to be experimented on my a mad scientist.

Another form stepped into the light behind him. They were able to tell from it's figure that it was a woman.

She also wore a black cloak that completely hid her body, though she didn't appear to be as heavily armed. The only thing she visibly wielded was another one of the strange staves. However, unlike the man, it was longer and slimmer, and it had some kind of cylindrical attachment on the end of it.

She was also wearing another one of the grotesque looking masks.

The man signaled to the woman and she stopped at the end of the courtyard. He proceeded to meet the five of them alone.

The six-arms shook the daze out of their heads. Although he had a disturbing visage, their warrior senses could tell that he had no martial prowess whatsoever. Davernoc also nodded to his comrades, it seemed that he possessed no magical power either. They put on their cocky smiles.

Malmvist was the one to speak up to him as he drew near.

"Well well well, something tells me you're not here to make a deal. Are you the 'Grey Wolf'?"

The masked man spoke, his voice was chilling when filtered through the mask.

"No, You do not face Mr. Wesley the steel trader, but the demon Rhamnusia. Wesley had nowhere else to go so he hired me to reclaim his assets. Realize that none of you will leave here alive."

Just then, a form materialized behind Rhamnusia. Succulent had been hiding using [Invisibility]. His sword was held at the demon's throat.

He smiled sadistically, "That's pretty big talk considering I could've killed you or that lady friend of yours at anytime I pleased."

He took his sword away from his throat and walked around from behind Rhamnusia so that he now stood in front of him.

"But that wouldn't have been fun if I had just killed you then, no, we're going to break you and toy with you for along time demon-san, we have to put on a show for the big wigs after all."

He held his hand up, gesturing to the building behind him. They were able see twistedly eager faces waiting in anticipation.

He then stuck his hand out for a handshake. "So why don't you call your lady friend over and we can have a fair fight."

"Succulent, stop playing around with him and lets get on with it- oh?"

Rhamnusia outstretched his right hand and met Succulent's handshake.

"See, that's more like-"

"I don't fight fair."

"Wha-!?"

Succulent felt excruciating pain as a surge of electricity pierced through his body. His muscles spasmed and tensed up.

Rhamnusia swiftly used his left hand to draw the dagger at his chest. He swung it around and aimed at Succulents neck.

Succulent was a seasoned warrior and Rhamnusia's attack was incredibly slow in his eyes. However he was completely paralysed in his grasp and couldn't move his body. He watched in horror as the blade neared him.

Rhamnusia plunged the dagger deep into the side of his neck. He dropped to the ground, his dead body still spasming due to the electricity.

Rhamnusia pried his stiff hand off of his right hand, completing their handshake. Faint smoke could be seen rising from rhamnusia's arm, the jolt of electricity had completely fried the circuitry beneath the cloak.

The remaining four members of the six-arms were on par with adamantite adventurers and recovered from their surprise immediately.

"G-Get him!"

The first to react was Edström, her six scimitars hovered and launched at the demon.

 _ **Bang**_

She blinked.

"What-"

The bullet had gone clean through her head, leaving a perfect, circular window.

Vera exhaled slowly at the end of the courtyard. She pulled away from her scope and opened the chamber of her bolt-action rifle with a satisfying mechanical click. She began to load in another round.

Edström, fell to the ground, not knowing what happened, completely oblivious to the fact that she would be dead in less than a second. Regardless, her scimitars continued through the air, maintaining the trajectory of their final orders.

Rhamnusia tucked his head and limbs in. The scimitars were weak individually and they skidded off the Stygilight plate mail he wore underneath the cloak. They clattered to the ground, never to move again.

The three remaining members of the six arms stared in shock, "How did…?"

Malmvist shrieked like a chicken. "What are you doing!? Get him!"

The closest one to him was the man in full plate armor, Pesylian. He snapped out of his daze and charged the demon, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

The demon leaped backwards and brought his hand to the bandolier across his chest. He pulled the tabs on the metal cylinders and clouds of pressurized yellow gas erupted forth.

Chlorine spewed forth in incredible concentrations. Pesylian charged through the thick yellow gas but only made it a few meters. He keeled over and began to retch out his lungs into his helmet.

"Wha...What is this…"

The concentrations of chlorine he was inhaling was well over 30%, his magic items did little to stop the shear amount of poisonous gas entering his body. The chlorine rushed into his air ways like a burst dam, completely destroying the sensitive tissues of his lungs. He found that his body had become very heavy, and his head, very light. He turned and staggered out of the fog.

"Pesylian, what's wrong!?"

Now that he was in clean air he assumed that he could breath, but in just the few moments he had taken in the chlorine, too much damage had already been done to his lungs. All he could manage in reply was an empty wheeze. He fell to the ground, never to move again.

The Lich and the lancer stared into the yellow cloud of gas, they were utterly terrified. The demon had killed three of them like it was nothing.

Rhamnusia's grotesque facade appeared, walking from the cloud of gas. The hollow expressionless eyes of his gas mask turned to the lancer. He was holding his lever action rifle and his voice came out with twisted in amusement.

"You're dressed like a matador, that means you're good at dodging, right?"

Malmvist gulped. He knew that he would die if he tried to flee, and he knew that he would die if he tried to attack. That begin the case, he drew his sword and took his stance. Not only did he have the quickest blade in Re-Estize, he also had the quickest feet, no matter his foe's abilities, he was still at least confident in his ability to evade them.

He did not know the nature of the demon's weapon, so he held his blade forward and prepared to counter his attack.

"I take that as a yes then? Then good luck dodging this."

 _ **Bang.**_ He fired the rifle. The bullet exited the barrel at 342m/s, an order of magnitude faster than any blade he'd ever had to dodge. It crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye and lodged itself in his shoulder.

"Gah! What was that!?"

The demon pulled the lever on the rifle and squeezed the trigger again. _**Bang.**_

Het felt another jolt of pain, this time in his leg.

Malvmist was no simple human, all of his senses were honed to an extraordinary degree, far beyond anything that a human from earth could achieve. Still, a tiny metal projectile moving at 342m/s was still out of the range of his kinetic vision, they were simply too fast for his eyes to track.

"What's happening!?"

"Hahahaha!" The demon laughed evil behind his mask. He was enjoying this.

 _ **Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.**_

The lancer cried in pain as each bullet entered his body.

"Dance for me!"

Malmvist could not track the bullets and dodged sporadically, weaving back in forth. His blood was spraying from holes all over his body.

The demon continued to unload his entire clip into him. It was too much.

Malmvist felt a jolt of pain as a bullet collided with the bone in his left leg. He tumbled to the ground, his sword falling out of his hand.

He heard footsteps approaching him and he tried to reach it. However he couldn't get to it intime. The demon stood over him and kicked it away, sending it clattering across the courtyard.

"...Please…"

The demon let out a deranged laugh.

"You might've actually had a chance if you simply charged me., I'm amazed you were able to take that many bullets, a normal human from earth would've been on the ground by only the third one."

"...What…?"

The demon did not reply however, he drew his dagger and planted it in the back of the lancer's neck.

He stood and turned his attention to the last survivor, if he was ever actually considered alive in the first place.

The Elder Lich had been petrified in fear the entire time the demon was playing with Malmvist.

The demon took a step foward.

Davenroc took a step back.

"No, please!"

He was a member of the undead and had a limitless life span. He was going to live for a thousand more years and grow his magical power until he could destroy all life. He wasn't going to die here.

He took another step back. He had thought that as a member of the undead, that he was immune to fear, he was wrong.

The demon took another step forward. There was no reasoning with the man behind that mask, that grotesque perversion of the human form.

"Get away from me!"

The lich launched fireball after fireball at the demon.

He took every one head on. His cloak was coated with a fire retardant, and thus, could not burn. That is not to say that he was immune to fire though, far from it.

Stockwell was cooking alive behind his mask due to the intense heat that each fire ball brought, and he would likely pass out from heatstroke should he take many more. However, in his demented state of mind, he continued wading through the fire unflinchingly, which seemed to do the trick.

The lich cried internally seeing that his fireballs were ineffective.

[L-Lightning!]

He out stretched his fingers and shot a bolt of lightning at the demon. Suddenly he stumbled forward, as if being pulled forth by the lightning at his fingers.

"What!?"

The lightning veered from its path moments before reaching its target. It steered into the antenna sticking from the demon's back. It followed the wire that ran all the way down his back and out if his pant leg that dragged behind him a foot or so back. The lightning zapped the ground underneath his feet, leaving him completely unharmed.

The lich abandoned his notion of trying to harm the demon, since he was obviously immune to all kinds of magic.

He got up and sprinted away as fast as he could.

 _ **Bang.**_

Vera's bullet was faster.

Stockwell's lever action required him to use smaller and blunter rounds. However, Vera with her bolt action did not require such things, so she had the freedom to use ammunition that was larger, faster, heavier, and overall, many times more destructive.

The round smashed into the back of Davernoc's skull, littering the courtyard with bone fragments. He skidded to a halt.

Rhamnusia walked up to him and rolled him over, he was still just barely moving.

"...Please…"

The last thing he saw was the terrifying visage of a gasmask and the pommel of a dagger smashing into his skull.

He stood up and stretched grandly. He basked in his handiwork.

Succulent: dead in a pool of blood, his muscles still twitching.

Edström: clean bullet hole through the head, lying not to far away from her motionless scimitars.

Pesylian: face first in a pool of his own vomit, his armor turning green from long exposure to chlorine.

Malmvist: riddled with bullet holes, a gory mess of blood still spilling out from the back of his neck.

And Davernoc: lying at his feet with his skull caved in.

He didn't get time to bask in glory for too long though.

"- I bet you think you've won."

He turned to see a tattooed boulder approaching him from the building.

"Oh yes yes yes I have though. Can't you see?"

The demon turned to Zero and outstretched his arms, as if presenting the dead bodies to him. He cocked his head to one side.

"Would you like to join them?"

Zero did not reply. He could tell that the man behind the mask was in no condition to have an intelligent conversation. He arced around him so that Stockwell was perfectly in line between him and where Vera was lying prone.

Zero crouched down into his stance, like a bull ready to charge. He had seen the demon kill the entirety of his comrades and would not hold back.

"I would like to see your little tricks stop this."

He activated all of his tattoos. The leopard on his feet, the falcon on his back, the rhino on his arms, the bull on his chest, the lion on his head, they all lit into brilliant crimson flames.

He did not wait any longer than he had to. The shock wave was so powerful that it completely blew away all of the lingering chlorine. He exploded at the demon with ferocious speed.

He had positioned himself so that if the demon attempted to dodge, he would charge past him and mow over the woman in the back.

The demon showed no signs of dodging however. Instead, he revealed a small pouch from his cloak and signaled to the woman behind him.

Vera caught the signals, "...number 2… prepare to shoot after detonation…."

She realised what he was talking about and quickly shut her eyes and turned away.

"One part powdered magnesium, and one part black powder, all packed down into a nice little pouch, it really is a simply thing."

The demon did not have time to continue mouthing off however, Zero was approaching at outrageous speeds. He quickly tossed the pouch in front of him. He keeled, covered his ears, and looked away.

Zero had put all of his power into that charge and could not change his trajectory. He trusted that his overwhelming power would knock aside whatever toy the demon threw at him.

He continued in single minded intensity, his target was only a handful of meters away kneeling on the ground, he would be on him in less than a fraction of a second.

The pouch the demon had thrown brushed against his ear.

 _ **BANG.**_

It exploded with a tremendously powerful sound. It ruptured the fluid in his ears, making him lose his sense of balance. His legs buckled underneath him. The light the pouch emitted was blindingly intense. His sense of vision was completely flooded and all he saw was white.

He skidded past the demon, only grazing him.

Stockwell and Vera did not miss their chance. They knew from testing that the flash bang only disabled people for a few seconds.

Vera looked down her scope.

Zero tried to get up and immediately failed. The flash bang had completely destroyed his visual and vestibular systems and would find it literally impossible to stand for the next several seconds.

Vera focused and squeezed the trigger. _**Bang.**_ It was a perfect shot, however-

"What!?"

Zero had activated all of his monk abilities and his skin was stronger than any armor. The bullet collided with his forehead and crumpled. He reeled in pain, but he was not dead, far from it. Vera began to load another round in panic.

Stockwell reached the grounded zero and attempted to plunge his dagger into his back but the same thing happened. His dagger skidded off of it like it was made of metal.

Zero was regaining his senses and he managed to get to one knee. He was able to sense Stockwell standing behind him and he reached over his shoulder and grabbed him. He pulled him over his shoulder and slammed him into the ground in front of him. It would've been fatal if he had not been wearing the armor underneath his cloak, or if Zero had fully regained his senses.

Zero was enraged. He brought his hands together into a large fist and raised them high above his head. There was no doubt that his downward swing would kill the demon at his feet, like a hammer crushing an ant. He opened his mouth and yelled with fury.

"RAWWWWWWWWWWW-!"

 _ **Bang.**_

Vera shot directly into Zero's gaping mouth where his monk armor did not apply, cutting his yell short. Like Hercules killing the nemean lion, the bullet entered his head and destroyed his brain, killing him instantly.

The power that Zero had gathered into his hands dissipated in an instant. He limply fell backwards, never to move again.

Stockwell staggered to his feet, it was a miracle that he had only sustained non lethal injuries from Zero slamming him into the ground.

He drew his dagger.

Vera could sense his insanity as he began to limp towards Zero's lifeless body. She realised that he intended to desecrate his body even further.

She rushed to him and hugged him from behind. "Wesley! It's over! He's dead!"

Her voice seemed to pierce through his hazy mind. In fact, Vera's voice had always had that effect on him. He now realised why.

It sounded so much like his mother's.

However, it only stripped away his outer most layer of insanity and simply brought him back to reality. He still thirsted for blood.

He turned to Vera.

"It's not over yet."

"What?"

"Look up there."

Vera followed Stockwell's outstretched finger to the viewing box to the top of the building.

She grabbed her rifle and looked through the scope. She saw many people in rich clothing, her eyes narrowed when she recognized Count Lytton and Marquis Boullope from the ball. They were staring down at them in stunned silence, fear written on their faces. Many of the people behind them were already fleeing.

"I see the two nobles from the party."

Stockwell nodded and grinned underneath his mask.

"You know what to do."

Vera nodded.

She put her obsidian eye to the scope and focused. Her incredible shots earlier were not actually luck, but a talent.

Her oddly colored eyes did indeed possess a power, but scopes and firearms had never once existed in their world, so like many people, she never had the chance to discover it.

Suddenly she could see the path of the bullet in her mind. She traced Lytton's head in the markings of the scope, accounting for the effect that gravity would have on the arc of the bullet at her distance.

She exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger.

"Marquis Boullope! What are you doing just standing there!? We need to evacuate! They'll probably come for us next!"

Lytton was shouting at Boullope who was standing in a trance, looking down at the tiny forms of Vera and Stockwell all the way across the courtyard below them.

He grabbed his shoulders and throttled him.

"We need to go!"

Boullope seemed to snap out of his daze and turned to Lytton.

"R-Right! Let's-"

The speed of sound is 343m/s, the bullet exited Vera's rifle at 623m/s.

Lytton's head exploded before they could even hear the explosion.

"Ha-?"

Boullope was showered in blood. It happened so fast that he thought he was dreaming. "H-how…"

His face contorted with insanity. Surely he was dreaming, no one could possibly kill someone from so far away.

He turned slowly, he looked down and saw the sniper lying prone on the other courtyard.

"It's- it's..!"

He recognized the figure of the women he had lusted over earlier that night. Suddenly the blood on his face seemed very real.

"IT'S HER!"

His scream was cut short.

Just like Lytton, his head exploded, never to look at another woman again.

Vera flipped down the covers of her scope and breathed calmly.

"It's done."

Stockwell nodded, she couldn't read his expression behind the mask, but he seemed pleased.

"Then if you don't mind, could you give me some first aid? We still have work to do."

…

Seven men and women sat around the table.

One of them angrily planted his dagger into the table.

"Where is that damn Zero! He said that this meeting concerned the very existence of the organization! And he's late to it!"

A skinny and pale man leaned across the table, he talked in a lewd tone.

"Easy there Hector~ that _blade_ of yours is making me uncomfortable~."

The leader of the assassination department, Hector, scoffed at the man. "Shut up Cocco. We haven't heard from Zero in over three days and suddenly he calls this meeting! Of course I'm on edge!"

Suddenly they heard the door being unlocked and everyone's heads turned.

The only ones who had the key to that the door were the heads of the eight fingers, so there was only one possible person it could be.

"Finally! He's here- Wait, who are you?"

Standing in the open door way was a cloaked man wearing an eerily disturbing mask. Strapped to his chest was a sheathed dagger with eleven tally marks engraved into the hilt.

"I'm your new leader, as of today, the eight fingers is under new managment."

Hector stood from the table.

"This is preposterous! Where's Zero!"

"He's with me."

Rhamnusia tossed an item and it landed in the center of the table. They all screamed internally as the looked at Zero's severed head, his mouth was a gory mess and his dead eyes stared blankly back at them.

"As I said, as of today, the eight fingers is under new management."

* * *

 **Also yes, if the six-arms actually manned up and charged him all at once, he probably would've been utterly destroyed. However, like many of you know, fear is good weapon.**


	8. Poisons and Medicines

**I apologize for another lengthy one, it's a bit dialouge/internal monologue heavy.**

* * *

The two ninjas exhaled and ran.

Normal people would not be able to follow the way they flitted from dark corner to dark corner. On top of that, when they used their magic items, even high-levelled adventurers would have a very hard time spotting them. In other words, nobody in the village could detect them.

One of them flashed a series of hand signals to her companion as they ran. Though it was merely a series of finger-bending movements, the meaning was immediately clear.

 _-We're lucky they didn't have dogs._

Came the reply: " _Agreed"_.

 _-Then, I'll head for my designated building._

She replied, " _Got it"_ , and then her companion peeled away and to the side.

This left her to run by herself. She glanced aside to the fields.

Those fields did not grow wheat, grains or green vegetables. The plants there were the raw ingredient for a forbidden drug whose spread was on the rise throughout the Kingdom, called "Black Powder". There were many such fields within the walls of this village, and they all grew the same crop. This proved that this village was a center of drug cultivation.

Her task was to recover all the intelligence within this building, and then to set the fields on fire.

The thick smoke emitted by the burning drugs was poisonous, but it had to be done to complete the mission.

It was quite possible that the wind might carry the smoke in a direction that would harm the villagers, but they did not have the time or the ability to evacuate the villagers.

 _Sacrifices must be made._

With those words to herself, she cast all thoughts of the villagers' safety out of her mind.

This was not the only site which grew the raw materials for drugs. According to their research, there were ten large-scale plantations within the Kingdom, and those might not even be all of them. Otherwise, they would not be able to sustain the massive quantities of drugs being trafficked throughout the Kingdom.

While she had still been an assassin, she had used Black Powder on occasions, and her organization had grown the plants needed to make it. As a result, she was not personally opposed to the substance. Drugs like that could be put to efficacious use if applied properly. The fact was that it was simply just a medicinal herb.

 _All we can do is pull up the weeds where we find them… it's tiring, but there's no other way..._

Ideally, they would be able to find written orders within this village, but that was not likely. All they could do was hope that this village's supervisor or equivalent had information of similar importance.

 _Leader would be happy if we could find some traces of the organization's involvement in this..._

She ran off into the dark field and crouched underneath the crops. She sized up the building in front of her.

 _Hmm… What would be the best way to approach this-_

 **FLASH**

"W-What?"

A pair of what she thought must have been magical lights flooded the field with white.

 _Did they expect us to come here!?_

She heard the shrill voice of an old lady.

"There was going to be a raid on our village after all! Rhamnusia-sama was right!"

She put her hand up to the light and squinted. All she could make out was the silhouette of half a dozen villagers. It was hard to see in the light, but they looked to be holding staves.

Suddenly she heard an explosion. The dirt at her feet erupted into and small burst.

 _W-What was that!?_

"Get out of our village you cut throat! We won't miss next time!"

She realized that she needed to do something. She ran horizontally, trying to get out of the light.

"Don't think you can come into our village and get away with it!"

The spot light turned to follow her.

 _What is this!? It's so bright! I can't hide like this!_

"Did you think we would just let you burn our fields!? Children live here! We need these crops to survive!"

 _Shit! I need to do something! But I don't want to intentionally kill innocent villagers with my own hands!_

She called out as she continued to run in the blinding light.

"N-No! It's not like that! We're just trying to help you!"

"Enough of your lies! Get her!"

Several more explosions went off and she heard several things whiz past her ears. The ground at her feet erupted into puffs of dirt. A single shot entered her arm. She reeled in pain.

"Aaugh!"

 _W-What the hell is this!? What are those weapons!? They're so fast! I need to-_

"GAH!"

She heard her teammates voice from across the village followed by several more small explosions.

"TIA! WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?"

She drew her dagger and squinted into the light once more.

"So you were planning on killing us then! You scoundrel!"

 _ **Bang.**_

She felt an intense pain in her hand. She reeled and the dagger fell from her grasp.

The silhouette of the villagers also seemed surprised.

"N-Nice shot! Who did that?"

A silhouette of a woman appeared in the light.

"Don't be too impressed, all of you are using muskets so I have an unfair advantage."

"Calico-sama!"

 _Who is she!?_

She squinted through the blinding light and was able to just make out the terrifying mask that the woman named Calico was wearing. She was pointing another one of the staves at her.

Her voice was chilling. Though for some reason, it seemed to hold a small amount of kindness, or perhaps pity.

"I suggest you flee Miss Assassin, I only miss when I want to. You dared to attack these people's homes and now they're quite irate."

The assassin stood in the light not knowing what to do.

"I-"

Suddenly she heard her ally from across the village, apparently she was undergoing the same treatment.

"TIA! RETREAT! WE'RE FALLING BACK!"

"HAI!"

She turned away from the light and ran back into the night while the villagers cheered.

...

Vera yawned at the reigns, she had been driving for quite some time and they were finally beginning to see the familiar surroundings outside of Moot. Niven had been working tirelessly in the back of the wagon for nearly the entire trip.

After solidifying their control over the eight fingers, Stockwell said that he could handle things on his own for a while, so he had sent the two of them back to Moot to complete a few assignments.

"Hey, Niven, aren't you tired?"

The boy was happily scribbling on a piece of parchment. He looked up

"Sorry, come again, Miss Vera?"

"*Yawn* Aren't you tired Niven? Wesley gave you a bunch of homework pretty much the moment we sprug you from that prison cell, and now you've been working ever since. When was the last time you've taken a break?"

"Take a break!? How could I ever think of science as work? It's just too much fun!"

"I see…"

Vera didn't need to turn her head to know that the boy was giving her a big, child-like grin.

"So what is it that you're actually doing then? I saw that you were dealing with those drugs, what was it again? Black dust?"

"Mhmm! Master said that he was 99% sure that it was actually something called opium. My assignment is to analyze and isolate the active narcotic molecule, and then if possible, to concentrate and enhance its- Wait, what!? Oh! I got it! Eureka!"

"Eureka? What's that-"

"Look at this Miss Vera!"

Niven assaulted her from behind and made her jerk the horse's reins. Niven practically pushed the piece of parchment into her face.

"Hey! I can't see!"

"Oh, sorry!"

Niven sheepishly smiled and held it out further from her face so she could actually read it.

In the middle of the parchment was a large figure made completely of hexagons, lines, and letters. She recognized the english letters for "C", "H", "O", and "N".

"What is it?"

"It's the skeletal structure for the narcotic! It affects the things in our brains called opioid receptors and it's what actually makes the drug work!"

"I see…"

She hadn't the faintest idea of how the odd diagram on the piece of parchment made the black dust work, but she did understand that that the boy was happy, which made her smile.

"That's great Niven, I'm sure Wesley will praise you when we go back to the capital."

"Mhmm! And now that I've identified the molecule, the next step after this is to try to figure out how to isolate and enhance its effects. Master did give me a hint and said that I should probably try mixing the black dust with things like acetone and acetic acid once we get back to Moot."

Vera smiled and steadied the horse as they began to pass over the final hill of their journey.

"And speaking of Moot, we're here."

They passed over the grassy crest and they both gazed in amazement at the village below them. Niven realized just how much it's changed since the scientist's arrival.

So many things had been added to its otherwise blissfully bucolic facade. The were able to spy the large foundry spitting crimson sparks into the air, the geothermal generator and saline pond that contrasted with the blighted yellow land across the lake, the giant steam engine that sat outside the blacksmith's workshop, the half a dozen massive steel containers used for making multitudes of different acids and chemicals, and the new building that held Stockwell's laboratory, which, while looking normal on the outside, fostered and entirely alien world within.

The shook the awe out of their heads and Vera turned to the boy.

"Do you still have that list of the things that we need to do?"

Niven nodded and pulled out a tattered notebook.

"Yeah, it says we need to…

1\. Dig out a hidden munitions depot.

2\. Upgrade the geothermal generator. Master already gave me a design to follow so I can probably manage that on my own, but I might need one or two of your skeletons for some extra muscle.

3\. Build an electric fence with said upgraded geothermal generator.

4\. Refine opium. I totally got that under control

5\. Stockpile Sulfuric Acid. Like the geothermal generator, he already gave me a design to follow for upgrading our system, he also gave me some vanadium we found when we took over that one mining company to use as a catalyst during the reaction, so we should have no problems there.

And 6. Start work on a proper electronics workshop. He also said that we might need to get an arc furnace up and running so we can start making silicon and really bump up our steel production to new heights."

Niven smiled and nodded. He used one hand to swiftly close the notebook with a satisfying *thwup*.

"So we should be done in no time at all!"

Vera nodded in affirmative and continued down the hill

...

Rhamnusia stood atop a platform as he watched the criminal grunts load crates into the warehouse floor beneath him.

 _We don't have the level of technology nor the resources to pull off the large scale production of nitric acid via the Harber and Ostwald processes, so we'll just have to make it with naturally occurring nitrates for now._

"Hurry up."

He glared at the grunts and the quickened the speed at which they worked.

 _I must admit that having a criminal organization in my pocket is astonishingly useful. I was able to use them to steal ore samples from all of the mines in the kingdom until we found a naturally occurring source of sodium nitrate. Then I was able to use their wealth to take over said mine without even having to use my own company's profits. Fear really is an excellent motivator._

He smiled evilly behind his mask as he recalled how he had successfully threatened the head of the banking division after he had initially refused to spend his department's wealth on the mine's takeover.

He then chuckled to himself as he remembered something else.

 _That bitch Hilma calls herself the leader of a drug trade when she couldn't even tell me the basic chemistry of her drug of choice, what an idiot. It took me a millisecond to figure out that it was some kind of opiate. We'll go ahead and do her work for her and refine it into heroin. Haha, that was funny seeing those villagers see floodlights for the first time. It also seems like arming them with muskets is good enough to fend off any private force that people throw at them._

The grunts working underneath him shivered as they heard the menacing laugher.

 _That boy is gifted, terrifyingly so. I handed the task of refining the drug to him because even I don't know the specifcs involved with chemically processing opiates. But knowing him, he's probably already figured it out and more. Hell, knowing him, I wouldn't be surprised to see him come back with a barrel full of morphine._

 _And now speaking of the boy, I imagine he's already ramped up sulfuric acid production using the massive amount of natural sulfur in Moot. Once we combine that with the sodium nitrate here, we'll have a messy, but usable source of nitric acid. And once that happens, we'll finally be able to start getting guncotton and dynamite. Thankfully, we'll also be able to subsidise or rapidly declining stockpile of potassium nitrate for gunpowder once we get nitric acid up and running._

He looked out over the stacks of crates filling up the warehouse floor.

 _It's too risky to store munitions here in the capital though, there's too many chances for things to go wrong, and more severe consequences when something eventually does go wrong. We'll just go ahead and store chemicals in their raw states for now in order to avoid suspicion. Then, we'll smuggle them to Moot using my company and assemble and hide them there in the bunker that they've hopefully built by now._

 _And once we've completely fortified Moot with the electric fence and more firearms, our system for making and hiding arms will be rock solid._

Rhamnusia nodded proudly to himself, everything seemed to be going to plan.

 _It's only a matter of time until the 'Grey Wolf' takes over all industry in Re-Estize thanks to Princess Renner's and the Royal faction's help. Renner obviously knows I'm planning on taking over the kingdom in its entirety, of which she seems fine with as long as I promise its stability and that she gets to live in peace with that dog of hers. But the royal faction is only cooperating with me to weaken the noble faction, so they're probably beginning to grow weary of my growing power, they're probably beginning to suspect that I won't stop at just the kingdom's industry._

He smiled evilly under his mask.

 _It seems like I'll have to take Raeven and the others out of the picture once my position is powerful enough to stand on its own against the inevitable royal decrees thats are coming my way once I start threatening the kingdom with chaos and economic collapse. Hopefully Renner has my back when that happens as well, but I doubt she'll find anyone else better to ally herself with._

 _My rule will be a fair and just one obviously. I'll make sure my subjects are treated well with healthy ergonomics and economic stability, hell, I might even go ahead and increase everyone's standards of living with electricity and what not. Yes, once that happens, the people of other nations will be happy to accept my eventual rule, no, they'll be practically begging for it._

Rhamnusia nodded grandly to himself.

 _Alright, it's about time for my meeting with the head of the assassination department. Everyone seems to be doing fine here._

He turned on his heel and left the the grunts to finish loading the crates.

 _Chlorine gas seems to be an effective weapon for now, but we're eventually going to need something that's a bit more potent. Hopefully I can gain some good insight into exactly how deadly chemical warfare can get in this world._

...

 _Oh god, what does he want with just me personally!?_

Hector was panicking inside as he was being led into a tiny dark room by the demon. So far, Rhamnusia had only asked things of the departments as a whole, and had yet to ask anything of anybody personally.

They stepped into the room and the door closed behind them, leaving the two of them alone.

"Sit, relax, this won't take long."

The head of the assassination department hesitantly sat down at the only table in the cramped room. Rhamnusia took the seat opposite him.

"So Hector, I hear that you're quite the poisoner."

Hector nodded shakily.

"Y-Yes, Rhamnusia-sama. Assassination is my trade. I'm no good with stealth or the like, so I've always relied on alchemy to poison my targets."

The demon nodded in understanding.

"Hmm, I see, then let's talk about alchemy, shall we?"

Hector shakily looked down at the table, trying to avoid looking at the grotesque mask.

"O-Of course, Rhamnusia-sama, w-what would you like to talk about?"

"From what I've heard, alchemy is magical art, meaning that all poisons and potions produced with alchemy work via the rules of magic, correct?"

Hector nodded his head shakily.

"H-Hai. It is as you say, all alchemy is is just a way for magic casters to preserve magic in a liquid form so that they can use it for later. This can be achieved by either bringing out the magical properties of naturally occurring ingredients or, if you're skilled enough, simply by casting magic into a liquid medium.

Rhamnusia sat deep in thought.

"So tell me about there latent magical properties of ingredients. What determines what these properties are?"

Hector thought for a moment.

"Well, I don't who decides what the latent properties of herbs and ingredients are, god maybe? All I know is that some herbs and ingredients have a small amount of magic inside of them that can be brought forth by an alchemist's magic."

"So what you're saying as that these properties are preordained?"

"Correct."

"So do these properties change when manipulating ingredients chemically?"

"Chemically?"

"Pardon me, I mean that if I were to say, take and herb and grind it down, and then combine it with other non-magical substances, would it's magical properties change?"

"No, as far as I know, the latent magic in materials always stays the same. Meaning that not matter how much you messed with a healing herb, the final product will always have a healing effect."

Rhamnusia sat it thought once more.

"Okay, I get the picture. So then tell me, what actually happens when a poison enters someone's body."

"Hai."

Hector paused for a second as he accessed the vast library of alchemical knowledge in his mind.

"Well, as you said earlier, alchemy is indeed a magical art, so it's affects are counted as a magical attack rather than a physical one. When the poison enters the body, it simply transfers the magic contained within the liquid into it, thus poisoning the target. As such, they act incredibly quickly and it's possible to bring someone to their knees or kill them in a matter of second. There is also a wide range of effects the alchemist can choose as well, such as paralysis, confusion, and blindness, just to name a few."

Hector had forgotten about his fear of the demon as he talked about his trade. He smirked a little.

"I'm probably the best poisoner in this country, only something as powerful as third tier cleansing spells can hope to counter my poisons."

Rhamnusia didn't seem impressed, and simply sat in thought.

 _As I suspected. I never would've been able to use alchemy in the first place since I can't cast magic. Also, it seems that ingredients have preordained magical effects that probably can't be exploited chemically._

"So speaking of counters, how are poisons generally stopped?

Hector twitched. It was a rather unpleasant thing for him to talk about considering his line of work.

"Well, as you know, poisons are really nothing more than liquids that have been, one way or another, imbued with powerful magic. As such, they can be nullified by equally powerful cleansing magic."

"Cleansing magic?"

"Yes. It's a magic that destroys the powerful curses that alchemists imbue into their poisons. I once heard that there was a priest among the thirteen hero's who could cure any poison with a single spell."

 _I don't know what he means by the thirteen hero's, but I am getting the picture that magical poisons can be countered by magical cleansing spells. That being the case…_

"So how does this cleansing magic work against poisons that are inherently non-magical?"

Hector cocked his head.

"What do you mean by poisons that are inherently non-magical?"

"I mean things that can poison you without magic, things like snake venom and arsenic."

Suddenly Hector nodded in understanding.

"Ahhh, I see, yes. Those kinds of poisons can't be dealt with normal cleansing magic since they're not magical obviously and need to be dealt with on a case by case basis. Thankfully, (or not depending on how you look it), people have already developed hundreds of specific counter spells for almost each and every known non-magical poison. So if you were to say, get poisoned by arsenic, then you could go to a temple and it's likely that one of the healers there would know the specific spell to eliminate the it. And besides, non-magical poisons are rubbish compared to alchemical ones, they usually take too long to activate or simply aren't deadly enough, so no one really uses them."

Rhamnusia sat deep in thought.

"So what if the same thing happened and there was no one around who knew the very specific spell for countering arsenic?"

Hector paused for a moment.

"...Well, I guess then your only option is to be constantly receiving healing spells while suffering through the pain and hoping you don't die. But I doubt anyone would ever actually find themselves in that kind of situation."

Rhamnusia nodded in understanding.

"So how long does it take to develop these counter spells?"

"I don't know for certain, but people are usually able to develop such thing fairly quickly, like, within a few years maybe? I remember there was some big news a little while back when someone discovered a new type of poisonous mushroom discovered and people started using it left and right. However, the temples and priests banded together and they managed to develop a counter spell to it within a year. There hasn't been any notable discoveries about non-magical poisons since then though, I imagine we've discovered and countered all of them by now."

 _Hmmm, I see. So this world has already developed counter measures against common toxins and naturally occurring things like arsenic. However, from what he's saying, it seems like if I were to use chemistry to create a poisonous compound that they've never encountered before, then they would have very little defense against it, at least, not for several months._

Rhamnusia began to chuckle evilly, making Hector shudder.

"In that case, I want all the arsenic you can muster."

Hector seemed confused.

"Are you sure? Arsenic isn't really effective as poison since it's relatively slow to take effect. And besides, I'm pretty sure there a load of priests who know the counterspell.

"Oh you poor ignorant child, you do not understand the true power that such an element possesses."

...

Vera's head popped into the open doorway of the lab.

"Niven! Mr. Faber finished assembling the pieces of the arc furnace. We're waiting for you to come and-"

"Noooooooo!"

She heard the pained cry of the boy coming from the other room. She quickly made her way to it and opened the door in a panic. She feared that Niven may have been hurt.

"What's wrong!?"

She saw the boy was sitting at a workbench and hunched over a series of petri dishes. He was nearly in tears as he sat at the open window, but he seemed to be unharmed and Vera breathed a sigh of relief.

"Miss Vera…"

She leaned over him and put her hand on his back in a motherly fashion.

"What's wrong Niven?"

He held up one of the petri dishes and showed it to Vera, there was some kind of mold growing on it. He began to cry.

"I came to *snif*... to c-check on… *snif*...on my bacteria cultures, a-and I saw t-that *snif*, mold."

He wiped his snot and tears on his sleeve and continued.

"I t-think they're all d-dead."

Vera remembered the time when she had first met him and failed to properly console him about his dead horse. She didn't understand the importance of the bacteria cultures, or even understand how someone could even become attached to a colorful petri dish in the first place, but she did know that she didn't like to see the boy in pain.

 _This is where I comfort him right?_

She wrapped her arm around him and held him tightly

"Hey, It's alright, they're in a better place now right?""

Niven sniffed his snot up grandly and nodded.

"Mhmm. I'm seventeen, more than old enough to know that death is nothing to cry about. Maybe I'm just a little bit too soft."

Vera remembered something that she had heard Stockwell say when he was a prisoner in her grandfather's crypt.

"But being soft and having empathy isn't necessarily a bad trait."

Niven nodded and silently thanked her.

"Now go ahead and get yourself cleaned up. We just finished everything on the list so we can head back to the capital now. Also, maybe you should bring your-"

She quickly recalled the name of the thing that Niven was crying over

-your bacteria cultures too. If it concerns science, Wesley might be able to help you somehow."

Niven nodded and wiped his tears. He hugged her back.

"Thank you, Miss Vera."

Vera seemed satisfied as Niven left the room to go and wash up.

She realized just then exactly how precious and innocent the boy was.

She swore that she would do all the killing, so that he wouldn't have to.

...

 _Hmmm...I wonder…_

Stockwell was sitting in Renner's room eyeing the woman named Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra. She was wearing a beautiful pink dress but supposedly she was one of the most powerful adventurers in the kingdom.

 _As I recall, she should be stronger than that lancer I shot down the other day, what was his name? Malmvist? I wonder how many bullets it would take to kill her, damn superhumans. I bet a good lungful of chlorine should sort her out._

Lakyus shivered when she felt his eyes. It was like those of a snake trying to determine if its prey would fit inside his mouth.

She ignored the creepy man and continued her conversation with Renner.

"And how much money will be lost in planting other crops during these six years?"

"That would depend on the crops in question. However, assuming a normal yield is 1, I think the yield would go down to 0.8… in other words, it's a 20% loss of revenue. However, after the sixth year, the yield will go up by 0.3 forever. I'm sure the figure will be higher if we add pastures for livestock into the mix."

"...That does sound quite tempting, but can farmers really take a loss of 20% of their income for six whole years?"

"...I think we could have the country extend interest-free loans to compensate for the 20% loss and then ask for repayment after the yields return to normal… If the yields don't go up, then it won't have to be repaid, or there could be some other way. The important thing is that once the yields go up, the loans can be paid off in four years."

"That might be hard."

"Why is that?"

"I told you, didn't I? People prefer to focus on immediate gains, and many people want stability. A lot of people will hesitate even if you tell them they'll be able to get 130% of their original crops in six years."

"I… don't get it. It worked really well on the test field…"

Stockwell turned his head to Renner.

 _I must admit though, this monster is a brilliant actor. It's probably only me, the prince, and Raeven who know that she's intentionally putting on a goody goody act._

Stockwell turned his head back to Lakyus and the two women continued to converse.

 _Still though, chlorine is simply a membrane destroying asphyxiation hazard, so It could br easily negated if someone protects their head… I wonder how Mrs. Superhuman would react to a blister agent though._

"Then how about asking the merchants…"

 _I can use the arsenic to make organoarsenic compounds including lewisite, so that should be good. But we'll have to upgrade our equipment though so that we don't accidently get any on our skin, and I'll have to get different filters for the gas masks as well. We might just end up having to equip ourselves with air tanks..._

He realised that the two women were looking at him.

"Hm?"

Renner giggled and continued.

"We were wondering if you could compensate the 20% loss that farmers would have to deal with if we went ahead and implemented the crop rotation. I'll make sure you're repaid when crop yields return to normal of course."

 _That's a bit of a hefty price, but It shouldn't really hurt me now that I'm sapping off the eight finger's funds. And besides, it'll be beneficial in the long run once I'm running this kingdom._

"Of course, it's no problem at all."

Renner smiled and nodded. Suddenly, she turned her head to the door.

"See Climb, Wesley-san isn't an evil person."

The boy who had been watching from the crack in the doorway stiffened up.

He slowly opened the door, "P-Pardon."

He bowed stiffly. "Good morning, Renner-sama, Aindra-sama, W-Wesley-sama."

Stockwell caught Climb's glare as he made his way to behind the princess.

 _Renner keeps a good watch dog. Well, more like a watch puppy._

A voice stopped him as Climb walked.

"Climb, not there. Here."

Renner indicated the chair to her right.

"But…"

 _Ahhh~ This is stupid._

Stockwell rolled his eyes as he watched the pitiful scene of the two women forcing the boy to sit next to the princess.

"Aindra-sama, please don't tease me."

"Fine fine fine. You really are a stick in the mud, aren't you, Climb? You should learn not to get hung up on details like her."

"Eh? Teasing?"

Faced with Renner's look of surprise, Lakyus froze in an incredibly fake way before exhaling with exaggerated intensity.

"Of course. Well, Climb _is_ special, but that's because he's yours."

Renner's face flushed pink, and she clapped her hands to her cheeks.

Stockwell studied the boy.

 _From what Renner's told me so far, her love for this child is genuine- Well, atleast genuinely psychotic. She's probably trustworthy. It seems like she hasn't figured out the connection between me and Rhamnusia at the very least since she still lets me sit in on all of these meetings._

Suddenly Climb flinched. A form had appeared from the shadows of the room. Stockwell, Renner, and Lakyus had already known she was there since they were just talking to her.

Tia's tone was annoyed.

"Don't you think we've drifted quite a ways off-topic? Let's get back to the previous discussion."

"Yes, the Eight-Fingers. We were talking about how we attacked one of their drug-producing villages the other day."

Stockwell hid his smirk.

Tia and Lakyus nodded grimly.

"The drug-producing villages are now being protected by a demon named 'Rhamnusia'. They're rallying behind him like he's some kind of savior."

Lakyus nodded in understanding.

"It makes sense though. Those kind of villages are desperate since they're resorting to relying on the Eight-Fingers. From their prospective, we're the bad guys, cutting off their last chance of survival."

"But the black dust is still hurting more people than it's saving, we have no choice but to pull the weeds."

Everyone in the room nodded. They didn't like it, but sacrifices had to made for the greater good.

"If they were rallying behind someone normal, then it would fine, we would still be able to deal with it, but…"

Renner cocked her head innocently. "But…?"

"This demon, Rhamnusia. He's anything but normal."

"How so?"

"He possess powerful magic items, and what's more, he's giving them to the villages."

Stockwell hid his smirk once more. _Magic items, don't make me laugh._

"What kind of magic items?"

"Well there was this one that produced an incredibly bright light. Much stronger than anything I've ever seen before, it was able to completely expose me through my stealth skills. It must have been made by a powerful light element enchanter."

 _So that's your interpretation of a magnesium filament burning inside of a parabolic mirror, what a joke._

Lakyus seemed surprised.

"That sounds like quite an achievement. I've seen you hide from torches held just feet away from your face. Whoever must have enchanted it is probably famous, we'll have to follow up on this."

Tia nodded and continued.

"But that isn't the one I'm worrying about."

"There's more?"

"Indeed, the villagers also had magical weapons that were able to spit metal."

"Spit metal?"

"Yes, the projectiles were moving too fast for even me to track them. And they hurt too. I was hit twice and both times they completely pierced my body. I probably would've been killed if I had been hit in the head or the heart."

Lakyus stood up.

"That's insane. And you said that common villagers were wielding them?"

Tia nodded grimly.

"Magical weapons require at least some skill to wield as well. If common villagers were almost able to kill you, then imagine what they could do in the hands of someone skilled."

Tia rubbed her hand that had been healed.

"I think there was someone who was skilled there. A woman, I think I caught her name was Calico. She's likely a close subordinate of Rhamnusia. She was able to disarm me in an instant, and the feeling I got from her was that she could've ended my life at any moment she wanted too."

Stockwell smirked again. _That's Vera for you, she's got a crazy talent when it comes to firearms. If there was ever an absolute truth to this world, it would be this: Vera doesn't miss. She must have took pity on her and spared her, oh well, that's fine._

Lakyus sat down and thought.

"That sounds terrifying, I'm sorry, we should've sent you two more support. I'm glad that you made it out alright. We'll look into tracking down Rhamnusia and his magical weapons."

Tia gave her a half smile.

"That's alright, I'm just glad that we made it out alive."

The five of them sat in troubled silence for a while until Lakyus spoke up.

"It seems like the eight-fingers are really starting to become a problem then. First, two of the six-great nobles disappear, and now, the drug trade is growing more powerful. Hopefully we'll be able to come up with counter measures before they really start to get out of hand."

...

Stockwell's residence in the capital was luxuriously furnished for the primary purpose of impressing guests, any actual comfort the added opulence brought was secondary.

He sitting at the desk in the living room scribbling on a business ledger when he heard the sound of the front door opening.

"Ah, Vera, Niven, welcome back."

Standing in the open door way was the familiar pair of mismatched eyes and a young boy with messy black hair.

"We're back!"

"Hi, Wesley."

Stockwell stood and welcomed the pair.

"Good, good, I trust you completed all the tasks then?"

"Mhmm! All done! And look!"

Niven presented him a sealed flask of clear liquid.

"I managed to isolate and concentrate the opiate in the black dust. I put it in a salt form and dissolved it in water like you said I should. I didn't test it out to see if it actually works as a painkiller, but I did a chemical analysis on it, so I'm pretty sure this is what the chemical looks like."

He gave Stockwell a rolled up piece of parchment. Stockwell unrolled it and studied Niven's diagram of the skeletal structure of the organic molecule.

 _Well I'll be, he actually did it, not that I'm surprised of course. My memory is a little hazy, but I definitely recognize the ether linkage between C4 and C5, the two hydroxyl groups, and the five centers of chirality. All things considered, I'm fairly certain he managed to make morphine. That's great, we can probably start making heroin tonight then if we put our minds together._

He smiled and patted the boy on the head.

"Nice job my boy. This will definitely work."

Niven smiled as he met Stockwell's hand halfway. Suddenly his smile darkened a little.

"Oh, I have something else to show you as well."

"Hm?"

Niven revealed a petri dish and handed it to Stockwell.

Suddenly, Stockwell's eyes lit up.

 _This is-!_

"The bacteria I was growing ended up being killed by that fungus, I was wondering if you could do anything about it…-"

Stockwell began to chuckle ruefully.

"Why do you sound so sad my boy? This is the kind of thing that'll win you a Nobel Prize."

"W-What do you mean?"

"I mean that your bacteria's sacrifice was not in vain."

Stockwell held up the moldy petri dish to the light and turned it around a couple of times. "The last time I saw a sample like this was back in biochemistry class, but I can tell you for sure that this is penicillium chrysogenum.

"Penicillium chrysogenum?"

"Yes my boy, it's a fungus that's able to produce an antibiotic protein. I was thinking of looking for some later, but it seems like it ended up finding us instead. This find of yours will probably end up saving millions of lives."

"W-What!?"

"Mhm. Do you have more samples?"

Niven nodded his head furiously. "Y-Yeah! It ended up getting into all of the cultures! They're all waiting in the wagon!"

"Then go and grab them my boy, and I'll teach you how to isolate the penicillin."

Niven had completely forgotten about the death of his beloved bacteria in the prospect of new scientific adventure with the bonus of also saving millions of lives. He happily bounded past Vera who had been standing in the doorway the entire time to go and get the other cultures.

Vera stepped in and Stockwell shook his head in defeat.

"Not only has that boy been gifted with a terrifying talent for science, he also has the luck of the devil sometimes. He'll surpass me in a year's time, easy."

Suddenly his stomach rumbled and Vera giggled.

"I know you just got here, but do you mind going shopping for some dinner? I'm probably going to be spending the rest of the afternoon and evening with Niven."

Vera smiled and nodded.

...

Vera carried her bag of produce as she walked happily down the capital's unpaved roads. She was enjoying her walk so she had decided to take a roundabout way back to the house. It was about 5:00 in the afternoon and the shadows of the buildings had grown just dark enough to summon criminals in back alley ways to begin their dubious dealings.

She stopped when she noticed a commotion in one such alley way.

" _What_ is she?"

Vera leaned around the corner to see the bizarre image of an immaculate butler effortlessly hoisting a man in the air by the lapels. The man squirmed and flailed in the butler's grasp, kicking the air.

The flailing man replied, his voice off-key from panic. "She, she's a worker in our place,"

"I asked you _what_ she was. And your answer is that she is a worker?"

The man's eyes were growing wide in fear. He was trembling like a frightened animal. The butler gave him a murderous gaze.

"It's nothing. It's just that some of my colleagues view humans as objects, so I believed that you too viewed people as objects. If you held that point of view, then you would not consider yourself to have done something wrong. However, you answered that she was a worker. In other words, you considered her a human being. Am I correct? Then, allow me another question. What were you going to do with her?"

The man gave off a queer squeal as the butler tightened his grip.

"She, she was sick, so I was taking her to a temple-"

"-I do not like being lied to."

"Aiiiieee!"

The butler tightened his grip on the man's shirt and he began to suffocate.

Vera could no longer stand by and watch the poor man suffer.

"Stop!"

She dropped her groceries and rushed to the two of them. The butler dropped the man on the ground without any kind of care.

"What is going on here!?"

She glared at the butler.

The butler however, was unmoved. In fact, he had already noticed her presence long before she even stepped into the alley way.

"I would like an answer to that question as well."

He stepped aside to reveal a dirty burlap sack lying on the ground behind him. Vera's eyes grew wide when she saw the upper half of a woman sticking out of it.

She looked like a withered corpse, her blue eyes were dark, clouded over and empty of life. Her shoulder-length hair was messy, with split ends from malnutrition. Her face was swollen like a ball from beatings, and there were numerous pale red spots all over her dried-out, bark-like skin.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. She felt a sudden pain in her heart as a surge of empathy flashed through her body.

She recalled the brief conversation she had eavesdropped on, she recognized that the butler was acting justly.

She immediately took her glare away from the butler and turned it to the man lying on the ground.

"Yes, exactly _what_ is going on here?"

The man on the ground had run out of options.

"P-Please! Don't take her away!"

The butler nodded silently to Vera, as if telling her, _Thank you, your arrival ended up speeding things along._

He scooped up the woman into his arms. "I'm taking her with me."

"If you take her away, things will be very bad. You'll be inviting disaster upon you and your master! Have you heard of Eight Fingers?"

Vera scoffed at the man. She almost smiled at how empty the threat was, considering that Stockwell had the eight fingers under an iron fist.

"I'll take my chances with the eight fingers."

The man bowed low to the ground in a dogeza.

"P-Please ma'am, they'll kill me!"

She looked back at the decrepit corpse of a woman still barely hanging on to life in the butler's arms. She understood from watching Stockwell that it was okay to judge the unrighteous.

"I hope they do, [Shock]."

She cast the first tier spell and a small bolt of lightning jumped from her hand and collided with the man on the ground. He spasmed before passing out.

She turned to the butler.

"You should come with me, I'm friends with the Grey Wolf, so our residence should be safe from the eight fingers. I'll also see what we can do about her injuries, since I doubt the temples will touch her anyways."

She picked up her bag of groceries and the butler gave her a polite bow. He was enticed by the prospect of getting guaranteed healing for the woman, as well as being able to justify his behaviour to Solution by saying that he was able to use the dying woman as a means to gather more information about a prominent figure in the capital.

"You have my thanks ma'am."

...

Vera opened the door to their residence and walked in, the butler walked in behind her carrying the sickly woman.

"Wesley! We have company!"

She turned to the butler and gestured to one of the many lavish furnishings in the room.

"Go ahead and lay her down on the couch, Sebas-san, and I can go ahead and start healing her."

Sebas nodded and layed the woman down. While he was doing so, he was examining the room closely. _So this is the residence of the Grey Wolf, he is one of the targets of my information gathering, so I should endeavour to make friendly relations with him if possible._

Vera stood over the woman and began to focus her mana. Stockwell and Niven appeared from the other room.

His face scrunched up with confusion when he saw Sebas and the beaten woman lying on the couch.

"Uhhh, Vera? What's going on here?"

Sebas quickly stood and addressed Stockwell with god-like elegance.

"Pardon the intrusion. My name is Sebas. Your friend Vera and I ran into this woman on the street and she recommended that we come here for assistance."

Vera seemed like she was struggling to heal the woman's wounds. She leaned back and added in.

"We suspect she got this way due to a brothel run by the eight fingers."

Stockwell scrunched his face once more. _What? Vera is rescuing people off the street now? And a brothel? Oh yes, of course, Cocco Doll is probably running those all over the place. Whatever. I didn't have any tasks for him so I've been letting him do as he pleases for now._

He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, this house is safe, feel free to stay as long as you like, Sebas was it?"

 _Hehe, what a fitting name for a butler._

Sebas bowed. "I am in your debt."

Stockwell looked over the woman on the couch once more. _I'm not a trained physician, but I can already tell from just one look at her skin that she's completely over ridden with syphilis._

Suddenly he perked up. _Wait! This is a perfect chance to test the drugs out._

He addressed Niven who had been watching from the doorway.

"Could you grab a couple of things for me my boy?."

Niven nodded.

"Go ahead and get a syringe full of penicillin, and a syringe full of the diamorphine we just made."

"Hai."

Niven disappeared into the backroom and re appeared a little bit later holding a pair of syringes. He handed them to Stockwell and he walked over to the woman.

"Having trouble Vera?"

Vera was indeed having trouble healing the woman. Her healing magic was having no visible effects on her whatsoever.

"Y-Yeah, her head wounds are infected and she's riddled with diseases so it's making it hard."

Stockwell nodded and got onto one knee. He leaned over the woman and Vera backed off. They all watched closely as he gently took one of her arms and sercheched for a vein.

He spoke to her softly and held up one of the syringes.

"This one is a powerful painkiller. It won't really help your actual condition, but it will atleast give you a little bit of peace."

He stuck the needle into her arm and she flinched slightly.

"Sorry, I'm not trained at this so I'm not good when it comes to getting needles in an out as cleanly as possible."

He drained a small amount of the fluid into her body. The effect was immediate. Her whole body visibly relaxed and she began to cough.

 _Perhaps I gave her a little bit too much, oh well, I doubt she minds. It seems like we successfully made heroin, excellent, I'm sure Hilma would be happy to know that we just made her drugs a hundred times more powerful._

She began to move her lips. And even if it was only barely, she felt like she could speak again now that a lot of her pain was gone.

"T-Thank you."

"Not a problem, but that dose was not only to numb your already existing pain, but also to numb you for the other injections, so prepare yourself."

He lifted the other syringe.

"This one is an antibiotic, It will hopefully help to cure your syphilis as well as your other infections."

He brought the needle to her swollen, puss ridden face. He inserted the needle and she fliched.

"Sorry."

He emptied a little bit of the liquid into her system and withdrew the needle. He made several more injections near various infected regions.

"It will generally take a little bit of time to work, but I think it will help supplement the healing magic, Vera."

He gestured to Vera and she nodded.

She stuck out her hands and began to cast her healing magic.

The difference in the effect before and after the injections was the difference between night and day. They stared in awe as her infected wounds healed in real time. Her bloated, puss filled head wounds began to shrink, and her bark-like skin began to clear and regain color.

"Well isn't that interesting. It seems miracles really can happen when pharmacology and healing magic work in tandem. Your healing spell must be circulating and magnifying the penicillin's antibiotic properties. Though, considering she's from a brothel, she probably has some viral STD's that antibiotics won't be able to solve."

Niven and Vera recovered from their amazement quickly. They were used to seeing Stockwell create such miracles with his science. Vera smiled and nodded and continued to cast her spell.

Sebas was still staring in awe however. A _second tier healing spell might be able to heal her in real time under an ideal situation if the magic caster is skilled, but this is far from an ideal situation. My ki could easily heal physical injuries, but curing diseases and infected wounds with such ease is something that only high tier healing spells could manage in such a short amount of time. I was convinced that we were going to have to use the healing scroll given to us by Ainz-sama. I have never heard of or seen such medicines before, and they most certainly didn't appear to have been made by alchemy._

Suddenly, Sebas's eyes narrowed. _After_ _Ainz-sama read the report about Rhamnusia, he said that there was a possibility that he may have come from a different world. I am to be on the lookout and follow all leads concerning otherworldly knowledge and technologies._

Vera finished casting her spell, she smiled and wiped a little bit of sweat from her brow. The woman on the couch was practically glowing with health and sleeping peacefully.

She turned to Niven and they nodded silently to each other. They picked up the groceries that were still sitting near the door and left the room to go and prepare dinner.

Sebas realised he was still staring and quickly turned and bowed to the master of the house, who was still investigating the woman. "Thank you for lending us shelter and aid. I am in your debt once more."

Stockwell hid his smirk. _Personally, I don't give a damn about the woman. I just wanted to see if the drugs worked and to see how they interacted with healing magic. But I can't just say that outloud now can I?_

He stood and gave the butler a friendly smile. "It's no problem at all-

 _Hehe, sure, why not?_

He the gave him a big toothy grin, he was trying to mimic a character from a popular movie on earth.

-saving someone in trouble is common sense."

 _Did I really just say that cheesy line from that lame movie? Oh well, it's not like anyone in this world will actually call me out on such an obscure movie reference._

"Hm?"

He looked down to see Sebas paralyzed in his bow. He was shaking uncontrollably.

"Is something wrong?"

Something that Stockwell had said had inexplicably struck a chord in Sebas's heart. He was frozen in place. _What? Why... Why do those words sound so familiar? Why do they continue to echo in my soul even now?_

Sebas did his best to shake the thought out of his head. He completed his bow.

"Forgive me-

 _I don't know what that was, but I need to focus on information gathering._

"- I was simply just curious as to the nature of the medicines you used."

Stockwell realised he had made a small blunder. _Ahhh, I was hoping he wouldn't press into the matter, but it seem like he figured out that they weren't alchemical potions, well then again, that might've been obvious from the way I explained it. Well, it isn't the end of the world. I can still avoid too much suspicion if I just withhold the full truth a little. Thankfully this world already understand the concept of germs for some reason, so explaining it shouldn't be hard._

"Those medicines were not actually of my own design, all the credit should really go to my apprentice. He discovered some fungus a few days ago and saw that it was able to kill germs. After he brought it to my attention, we played around with it for a little while until we were able to put it into a form that could treat infections. We made the other one in a similar fashion as well. I hope that answers your question."

Sebas nodded, deep in thought. _Hmm, a likely story. It certainly sounds doable without otherworldly knowledge when it's explained like that._

He realised that he was still doubting Grey Wolf's words echoed in his mind-

 _-saving someone in trouble is common sense._

It was a powerful sentence that cleansed him of any doubts.

 _What am I doing? Mr. Wesley is clearly a man of just disposition. And even if it was only out of deference for a friend, he still opened up his home and offered aid to a pair of strangers, I doubt he could be the demon Rhamnusia._

"Of course, Wesley-sama. Thank you for satiating my curiosity."

Stockwell nodded. "Please, just call me Mr. Wesley, I'm not one for outlandish honorifics."

"If you insist, Mr. Wesley."

They both smiled and smelled the aroma of food being prepared in the other room.

"Will you being staying for dinner?"

Sebas looked back to the woman happily sleeping on the couch. He was still responsible for her, as neither Stockwell or Vera promised to take her in. He had also been gone for too long and needed to return to his and Solutions residence.

He bowed one final time to the master of the house. "I'm afraid I've imposed upon you for long enough, I will take my leave now."

With that, he gracefully scooped the woman into his arms and left. Opening and closing the door behind him.

Vera popped her head around the corner after Sebas left.

"What are we going to do about the slave trafficking?"

After pondering it for a moment, Stockwell went to join Vera and Niven for dinner.

"Cocco Doll is probably getting desperate. His slave trafficking business is withering by the day and he no longer has the six arms to back him up. If he shows any weakness now, it'll be the end of him. We'll just watch him quietly from afar, and if it looks like he's going down the drain, we'll turn him into positive publicity for Rhamnusia."


	9. Affliction

Before Lockmyer had become an adventurer, he had worked in the underground as a thief, and as such, he was no stranger to shady alleyways and backwater deals. This had made him a good candidate on Marquis Raeven's private forces to investigate the leads on Rhamnusia pertaining to his supposed association with the Eight-Fingers.

Lockmeyer kept his head down and continued down street called Beggar's Row. Aptly named, the backwater street in the Re-Estize capital boasted the highest concentration of paupers in the kingdom.

Charities often ran campaigns which served as a beacon for more beggars to gather, which of course then assentiviesed more charities to gather as to more efficiently serve more people in need. However, as is often true with most things, a high concentration of desperate people in close quarters leads to a less than healthy atmosphere. It was not an uncommon sight on Beggar's Row to see quarreling drunkards and rampat drug abuse.

Still, Lockmyer was used to it. He kept his head down as he headed down the street.

However, he soon began to notice that something was off.

"Has this place really changed that much…?"

Though it had been several years since the last time he had visited, there had been at least some commotion, pleasant or otherwise.

But now, it seemed like a ghost town.

There were plenty of people, mind you, in fact, there were too many. The problem was simply that they were all void of life. The people simply ambled aimlessly with dead looks in their eyes.

"What's going on here…?"

He thought to himself when he suddenly felt a tug on his pant leg.

"Hm?"

He looked down. A thin, corpse like arms was grasping his pant leg. A dirty beggar had reached out to him.

He looked up at the thief with hollow eyes. His voice was just a thin stream of air.

"...water…"

Lockmyer knew better than to give a man a fish for a day. He broke away from the man's grasp and continued down the street.

"...please…just a little... I'll pay you back..."

Lockmyer continued on, but not very long, he stopped and sighed. He rolled his eyes at himself for what he was about to do.

"Perhaps I have softened up a bit."

He turned and went back to the beggar. He kneeled down and took out his canteen.

"Here."

The beggar took the canteen, but after opening the spout and sniffing it, he immediately spilled the contents on the ground in disappointment.

"...I mean water! Water!"

"What?"

The beggars around them noticed the commotion and stumbled out of their lifeless state. They approached them like a horde of zombies.

"...Hey...He's got water over here..."

"What the hell?"

Lockmyer quickly broke away a continued down the road.

"What the hell was that? That was water, right?"

...

Lockmyer continued for a long time until he had found the alleyway he was looking for. After looking around to make sure nobody was paying attention to him He turned a corner and scanned the alleyway.

He saw a shady looking man leaning against the shadowy walls of the alley. The man noticed Lockmyer was looking at him.

He stepped out of the darkness and beckoned the thief over. He gave Lockmyer a wry smile.

"Well I'll be, if it isn't the almighty Lockeroo the unseen. Haven't seen you in awhile. What brings you to our quaint little pauper's paradise?"

"I'm working for the big wigs now, gotta track someone down. I'm looking for a demon by the name of Rhamnusia."

The information broker whistled and leaned back up against the wall.

"So the almighty Lockerino got tired of playing monster hunter and became a sellsword, what has this world come to?"

He gave the thief a devious smile.

"If you want some info on good ol' Rhamy boy, It'll cost ya-"

"-I know."

Lockmyer revealed a small satchel of coins. He continued.

"But before that though, what's the deal with this 'water' thing? I nearly got myself trampled by a herd of beggars at just the mention of the word."

"Hey hey hey, you know as well as I do that information isn't free."

After taking the small satchel of coins, he smiled a little bit.

"Buuuuuut, I'll let you in since you're an old friend after all. Supposedly our fair lady Hilma found a way to supercharge her happy dust, it hit the streets a couple days ago and it made a huge splash. It usually comes as a clear liquid which is why the bumerinos have been simply calling it water, but I've seen people smoke it and drink it what not."

"Is it strong?"

"Strong? You know me, I don't get involved with those kinds of things, but from what I've heard, two silvers worth of water will send you to the moon and back. She gave a little taste test to the druggies who were already shovelin' the dust up their asses, so now she's got 'um hooked on the new stuff."

Lockmyer nodded in understanding.

"I see, then it sounds like the drug trade is really taking off. I guess the rumors about Rhamnusia protecting the cultivation hubs might actually hold some merit now."

"Indeed."

"And, speaking of the demon…"

"Ahh, yes of course, bunch a people comin' through here lookin' for Rhamy boy, though, I hear he's a hard fella to track down, he likes to keep himself pretty untrackable and the like. Only way your gonna find him is if he's lookin' for you as well. "

"So it's a lost cause then?"

The information broker shrugged.

"I can lead ya to the right people, but I can't guarantee anythin'. But who knows, maybe the almighty Lockeroo will get lucky."

"Excellent, where do I start?"

...

Niven and Stockwell sat engrossed around a workbench in the mini laboratory. Stockwell struck a match and slowly brought it to a few dozen ice cubes sitting on a tray

"Aaaaaaand, there we go."

Stockwell brought the match to the ice and they lit aflame. Niven had sparkles in his eyes.

"The ice is on fire!"

"Haha, well not really, it's the acetylene gas."

"What's that?"

"C2H2, the carbons are triple bonded in the middle with a hydrogen atom on either end. It's just a flammable gas, and the product of this nice little science experiment."

The seemingly burning ice cubes were sitting atop a white granular powder at the bottom of the tray.

"The water from the melting ice is reacting with the calcium carbide to form acetylene and calcium hydroxide. The fire you're seeing is just the result of that acetylene and it's creating the illusion that the ice is on fire."

Niven studied the little tray of burning ice and smiled.

"What's acetylene used for?"

"I'm glad you asked."

Stockwell reached underneath the workbench and revealed a strange looking piece of equipment. To Niven, it looked like some kind of weird skeleton arm.

"What is it?"

"Oh, this is the gauntlet I've been working on. It's a mechanical exoskeleton that works to mitigate and disperse kinetic energy, it uses friction the same way that the old leaf springs used to use it in old automobiles. Kinetic energy is absorbed into the plate at the palm and transferred and mitigated by friction before being finally being dispersed to the rest of the body and into the ground by a spike on the boot… "

He realised he was getting off topic.

"But that's not important, look at this."

Stockwell gestured to a pair of tubes that ran into a nozzle that sprouted from the side of the weird gauntlet.

"Acetylene makes an very hot flame, around 3500°C if I remember correctly. It's used in torches that can easily heat and cut through metal. It can also be used for lighting among other things."

"The ice and calcium carbide experiment is just a fun little thing to do, but the best way to make it is just to use water."

He reached under the table and revealed a bucket of calcium carbide.

"So, could you go ahead and whip up some acetylene and dissolve it in acetone for me? I have to run an errand."

Niven nodded.

"Of course- But we only have that small tank of acetone left, how much do you need?"

"Just that much is fine, I'll only be needing to carry a small amount of acetylene for what I plan on using it for anyways, and besides large gas tanks are heavy and awkward to carry around."

He stooped at the doorway before turning back to Niven.

"By the way, where did you put that radio we were working on?"

…

Stockwell and the Princess have had several meetings like this one before. It was simply just him and her in a closed room so that they could discuss their plans in secret. They had just finished their time together and Stockwell was getting ready to leave, however...

 _Something really is off indeed. I feel like… I feel like something is watching me. I was right to bring this._

For several days now, he had been having this ominous feeling that someone was watching him whenever he conversed with Renner. Initially he had thought it was just his increasingly rampant paranoia since coming to the new world, but the feeling that something was off was simply too strong.

In fact, the presence he was feeling was not simply paranoia, but actually one of his passive scientist skills that increased his awareness to fantasy-esque phenomena. This skill was not really a detection skill as all it did was produce a gnawing feeling in the gut whenever something intrinsically non-earth like was occurring, and so it could not actually be used to precisely identify something.

He looked over the princess once more and she smiled sweetly at him. He got up to leave the room.

"I'll just leave it here then."

Renner nodded and Stockwell picked up a large metal box. It was heavy and had some kind of weird circular membrane poking out of it. He had brought it under the pretense that it was an exotic ornament from a country far to the south. In his paranoia he had also decorated it with gold and silver and placed a small sculpture atop of it to avoid suspicion. Renner accepted it of course, as it would be the height of rudeness to deny a gift from someone she had been working so closely with.

 _Thankfully radios aren't too complex an instrument, though it was a headache to make the vacuum tubes and triodes for the transmitter, but it'll be worth it if I manage to catch something. And even if Renner is smart, she isn't omniscient, she won't be able to predict this having never seen a radio before. Even if she had a magic caster appraise it, it should come up empty._

 _It should only turn on in response to sound, and it's only a short range transmitter as well, but even so, it probably only has at most a week of battery power. Hopefully I catch something soon._

He gave her a polite bow before exiting the room.

After closing the door, he waved goodbye to the guard outside, who responded with a cold stare.

"Work on that glare of your my boy."

Climb knew that even if he disliked and distrusted the strange man, he could not tolerate himself reflecting badly on the princess. He adverted his gaze.

Stockwell chuckled and left the palace.

He swiftly boarded the carriage waiting for him and made his way back to his residence.

...

It had only been coincidence in the first place, but he silently thanked himself for getting a house that was so close to the palace. He was able to get back in less than three minutes.

He hurried through the door and Vera met him.

Stockwell didn't break his pace as they both headed for a back room.

"Vera, anything coming through yet?"

She nodded hurriedly.

"Yes, the audio's a little fuzzy, but it's just clear enough to make out what they're I heard you leave, it sounded like she tried to dissect it, but she didn't find anything in seems. She's meeting with someone right now. From his voice it sounds like a young adult."

"Probably Climb, anything after that?"

"No, I think they should still be talking."

Stockwell nodded and they opened the door to the back room.

"B-But how are you even doing it? I can't detect any magic from it at all."

Stockwell pulled out a chair and sat at a large metal box that looked very similar to the one he had just left in Renner's room.

"Didn't I tell you already? Christ Vera, I thought you were already developing your own spells using electromagnetism, you should know this."

"Well... I'm still working on it. Just give me some time."

"Yes, yes. Well, if you must know, the microphone converts sound waves into electronic signals which are then sent to a transmitter and emitted as waves on the electromagnetic spectrum where they are received and reconstructed via a magnet in a speaker to create sound, this of course….Never mind, it'll take too long to explain, ask Niven later if you want the full explanation. All you need to know right now is that it's communicating with a transmitter I left in the princess's room."

He turned a knob receiver and the static died down a little, they listened in to the muddled voices.

 _...Bzzerp….Zzzz…."Climb, could you go out and guard the door again please? I'd like to have some alone time."_

" _Of course."_

They heard what sounded like someone in full plate armor bowing and the sound of heavy footsteps followed by the opening and closing of a door.

… _.BZzerb...ZZzz…."We should be alone for a while now."_

An eerie voice came from the receiver.

… _."I will call Demiurge-sama then."_

Stockwell and Vera gave the metal box their undivided attention.

... _zzzz…."Done. Demiurge-sama will be here shortly. I will be returning to your shadow then."_

They waited in silence for a long time, listening to the static hum of the radio receiver. The metal box was a receiver only, and as such, even if they were to say something, Renner would not be able to hear them from the transmitter in her room. Even so, they waited in silence.

 _...Buzzz…_

They head an alien sounding noise followed by a couple footsteps. They then heard what sounded like the princess dropping to the floor in a bow. They then heard a male's voice.

… _.Bzert….Zzzzz…"Has the room been warded yet?"_

" _No. Your servet called you the moment we were alone."_

" _I see, then I will cast anti-eavesdropping magic then."_

Several seconds of silence passed.

" _There we are, no one should be able to cast any eavesdropping magic on us lower than seventh tier now."_

Stockwell noticed Vera shuffle behind him, but he didn't have time to analyze it. He continued to listen in.

" _You may raise your head."_

" _-Hai."_

" _You have done an excellent job so far in just the short time we've been in contact, the information you've provided us has been invaluable in setting up our lord's plans."_

" _Thank you very much."_

" _So then tell me, how goes your investigation on Rhamnusia?"_

" _So far we know very little of him. I have Marquis Raeven and the Grey Wolf investigating the matter. We have confirmed the rumors that he has ties to the Eight-Fingers, however, we have yet to deduce if these ties are amiable or not."_

" _I see. Then speaking of that steel trader, it seems like you can lower guard around him, your suspicions of him being Rhamnusia were unfounded. One of my colleagues encountered him and confirmed that he wasn't the demon in disguise._

 _That is not to say he isn't dangerous though. I hear that he is still plotting to take over the kingdom, yes?"_

" _Correct. I've been feigning cooperation with him. He will meet his end before he accomplishes his goal. It is your's and mine lord in all of his greatness that will rule this kingdom of course. I am simply using him to break the noble faction and to bring this kingdom to economic stability in preparation for our lord's take over."_

" _Then I will leave that matter to you."_

" _Of course. Then if I may make a request?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _I would like you to continue to keep my knight, my Climb, safe during the events that are about to transgress."_

" _Of course, that was always my intent._

" _Thank you very much, Demiurge-sama."_

" _I will visit you again shortly, continue to faithfully server our lord."_

" _Hai."_

They heard the strange alien noise once more and it seemed that the male had left.

… _.Zzzz…."Climb! You can come back in now…"_

They listened for a little while longer but heard nothing meaningful. Stockwell turned the knob on the radio receiver and the static faded into silence.

He leaned back in his chair. Vera stood silent next to him.

"Well then… I didn't expect to learn so much so soon…"

Stockwell clenched his fist as he thought about the princess's betrayal.

"Whoever this lord is, he's controlling the princess from the shadows as well as actively searching for us. This couldn't be any worse."

Vera nodded, but she did so a little shakily.

"That man named Demiurge, he implied that he casted anti-eavesdropping magic of at least seventh tier."

Stockwell raised an eyebrow.

"What of it."

Vera seemed a little shocked at the reply.

"What do you mean!? That level of magical power is only talked about in myths!"

"Is it that strong?"

"Yes!"

Suddenly, Vera seemed to calm down.

"Wait, no, yes. He must of been bluffing, of course, we were able to hear him after all, so I doubt his warding could've been seventh tier."

Stockwell pondered for a second.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"W-What do you mean?"

"Well, we were spying on him via radio afterall. There's nothing magical about it. If all his magic did was prevent sound waves from leaving the room, or prevented people from casting eavesdropping magic on them, then it shouldn't have affected the radio in the slightest. So it could've still be that arbitrary seventh tier magic or whatever you were going on about."

"I-I see then, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"Just... just if we ever come across someone like him, please be careful Wesley."

Vera had absolute faith that Stockwell couldn't be matched when it came to combat or making things or intelligence or really anything of that matter, but even so, perhaps instinctually, she had told him to be careful. It was the first time she had ever warned him of anything. Stockwell seemed to catch on to the concern.

He nodded purposefully.

"Okay then, I'll be careful."

Vera nodded with a relieved smile.

"Still though, this means that there's a group of powerful entities out there searching for Rhamnusia, and they've already got their hands on Renner."

"So what do we do?"

"Firstly, it's clear that Renner's plotting for my business to fail, I'll keep a lookout on that end. Secondly, we'll maintain control over the eight-fingers but distance ourselves enough so that they can't track us back through them. And finally, it seems like Raeven's going to be investigating us as well, let's see if we can't convince him to come to our side instead."

Stockwell hid his sinister grin.

He got up out of the chair and went around to the other room that held the mini laboratory. Niven was still hard at work.

"Hey, Niven, remember when you went to the temple and collected all those bacterial samples?"

He looked up from his acetylene making.

"Hmm? Yea, why?"

"Where did you put the culture of meningococcus?"

…

Raeven's abode was well fortified and well manned, and as such, proved a good challenge to the assassin.

The shadowy figure smiled as he filtered through the shadows of the manor. He was one of the best assassins the assassination department of the Eight-Fingers had on staff, so he liked a good challenge.

He noticed a torch coming his way and dived behind a corner. He waited for the guard to pass.

After confirming his route, he continued down the corridor.

He came to a door and skillfully disarmed the lock.

He quietly entered and closed the door behind him, taking care to make as little noise as possible.

He crept up to his target sleeping on the bed.

It was just a small boy, maybe only five or six years old.

After confirming his target, the assassin revealed his weapons, a pair of small syringes.

He didn't like using poisons and much prefered using a blade, but he had been ordered by Hector to use these poison specifically.

He grumbled.

[Greater Numbing]

It was actually a healer skill that temporarily desensitized patients to pain, but it also had its merits as a useful assassination tool.

He located a vein on the boy's arm and inserted one of the syringes.

He grumbled underneath his breath a little.

"Such a weird assassination…"

The syringe supposedly contained an alchemical solution that increased heart rate, blood flow, and blood sugar, as well as temporarily compromising the immune system.

After emptying that one, he inserted the second syringe.

It was the actual poison and it supposedly capitalize on the effects caused by the previous one.

After emptying the small amount of liquid into the boy, he snuck back out of the room and disappeared into the night.

…

Marquis Raeven entered his son's room in the morning to a horrendous sight.

"Rii-tan!"

He rushed over to the boy's bed side.

The was barely conscious and breathing in short, rapid breaths.

Raeven screamed to the guards outside the room.

"Prepare the fastest carriage we have! We need to get to a temple immediately!"

The boy had dark rashes all across his body. He placed his hand on the boy's head and felt his intense fever.

"...Papa…what's going on..."

Raeven was fighting back tears as he lifted him out of the bed and started running down the hall. It was clear from the boys condition that if he wasn't on death door's now, he definitely would be soon.

"You're...You're going to be just fine Rii-tan. Papa's going to take good care of you."

"...Why are you crying papa…?"

Raven brought the boy up higher in his arms and kissed his forehead. He continued to run down the hallway towards his carriage.

…

Raeven and his wife sat inside the temple, just outside the room where his son was receiving healing.

A priest opened the door and came out to meet them.

Raeven shot up from his seat.

"How is he! How is my son!"

He practically throttled the priest.

"Please, relax Marquis, you son's alive."

He let go of the priest and gave a small sigh of relief, but he was still far from relaxed. The priest continued.

"He's alive, but just barely. We've done all we can, but the infection has already spread throughout his entire body. You said this appeared overnight?"

"Y-Yes."

The priest nodded grimly.

"I see. Then, you see Marquis, treating infections is a long and hard process, and it only becomes harder as the infection grows. Your son's condition has progressed to such a stage where even all of our best effort are simply just slowing it down. His body has already reached a stage of perpetual sepsis. All we can do now is constantly cast healing spells on him while he suffers."

The priest saw the look in Raeven's eyes and dreaded what he was going to have to say next.

"Even with fourth-tier healing spells, no one has ever recovered after reaching this stage, it's a miracle he's still alive in the first place. With no way to stop the infection, your son...your son likely only has a few weeks to live."

One could almost audibly hear Raeven's soul break.

"We'll do the best we can, but you should prepare for the worse."

…

Although it was late at night, the entirety of Blue Rose was present for the meeting with Renner. Climb was currently out on patrol and thus there were only females in the room.

Tina place a small vial of clear liquid on the table.

"This is it. What the underground is simply calling 'water'. This much went for nearly three gold."

They looked at the liquid curiously.

"This is just the liquid form of it too. Apparently it can be put into smokeable and ingestible forms as well."

"How much stronger is it than the black dust?"

Tina sighed.

"Easily twenty times stronger when smoked or put in tea, and infinitely more addictive when injected. It's taking the underground by storm. I took a little bit of it during my research and I have to say, even though it's made from the black dust, it makes the base drug seem like a joke."

Tina shook her head ruefully.

"Lethargy, confusion, nausea, itchy skin, photophobia, insomnia, anxiety… everything the black dust did to people is still there, but now only a hundred times worse. It just hit the streets a few days ago so it's still relatively unknown, but it's only a matter of time before it gets out of hand."

They all looked down grimly.

"How are the temples coping?"

Tina looked up.

"Oh? Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Even though we've confirmed that water is made from the black dust, it seems like it's not just a concentration of it, they were somehow able to change its non-magical nature. The normal cleansing spells used for the black dust don't work on people afflicted with water."

"Shit, that's right. I heard about that."

"So what do we do then?"

"What we've always done, take out the drug cultivation hubs."

"But that's dangerous, we still have to deal with Rhamnusia."

Lakyus stood up.

"And that's why you're all here. It's clear that simply trying to attack the drug cultivation hubs isn't going to do us any good, that's why we've changed our strategy to attacking the Eight-fingers as a whole."

Everyone seemed surprised.

"Oi oi, are we actually going to be doing it at last?"

"Yes, as you all know, the eight-fingers have been steadily growing more powerful as a whole, it's as if the departments are actually working with each other now. It's only a matter of time until we're forced to take action in one way or another, that is why we're acting now when we still have a chance at defeating them."

"Do we even know where to attack?"

"Yes, thanks to the combined efforts of her highness and the Marquis, we've been able to identify several locations that are likely hubs for the organization."

"Well I'll be, when to we start?"

"Three days."

"...That's not a lot of time to prepare."

"I know, but due to possible information leaks, we have no choice but to keep things on a tight schedule."

Lakyus looked around the table but no one seemed to be too remised.

"We're being backed by the Marquis and some of Prince Zanack's men for this operation, so you can be rest assured that we'll have plenty of support."

They all nodded in affirmative.

"Then make your preparations, the operation starts in exactly 72 hours from now."

After they all nodded in affirmative once more, Lakyus turned to Renner.

"By the way, if it's not rude your highness, what's that weird sculpture sitting on your shelf, where did you get it?"

Renner giggled and looked at the strange metal box that had been sitting on her shelf for the last couple of days.

"I thought that it was curious too, but it's grown on me. It was a gift from Wesley-san, he said it was an exotic ornament from a country far to the south."

Lakyus laughed lightly as well.

"Strange taste."

…

Lockmyer bowed.

"Sir, I've been able to establish a contact with Rhamnusia."

They were not at Raeven's manor but actually at a much smaller apartment in the capital. Raeven had rented it in order to stay as close to his son as possible who was receiving healing in the temple just next door.

It had only been a few days, but Raeven looked like he had already aged several years. Sitting at his desk, his reply was full of emptiness.

"Wha-? Oh...yes, Rhamnusia…"

"Sir?"

"Yes, no...no, I'm fine… tell me what happened."

"Hai. As if by incredible coincidence or luck, I was able to work my way through the undergrounds contacts to get to him."

"What did he say?"

Lockmyer shuddered as if remembering his brief meeting with the demon.

"Well...It was quite short but he somehow figured out I was working for you before I even got to him, so I wasn't able to control the conversation as directed. Instead, he simply gave me this note for you."

"What? How did he figure it out?"

Lockmyer stood and gave Raeven the note. He shook his head ruefully.

"I don't know. Maybe the rumors of his devilish intelligence are true."

Raeven took the note and read it carefully. After only making it a few lines, his eyes popped out of his head.

"What!?"

"Sir?"

Raeven shot from his chair and raced to the door.

"Make sure I'm not followed! No one is to know about this!"

"Hai…"

…

Raeven stood shrouded in a dark alleyway.

He called out to the shadows casted by the moonlight.

"I'm here."

A seething voice echoed from the shadows.

"Were you followed? You didn't tell anyone about this now did you?"

He swallowed and shook his head nervously. He need to work with the demon, he was his only hope after all.

"Good, good, you see Marquis, I know that you've been secretly working for that monster."

"M-Monster?"

"That is, princess Renner."

 _How did he find out!?_

"H-Hai…"

"You know, it really was a simple plan. Renner uses your resources to sniff me out, you stage a meeting with me and inform her about it, she then goes and informs her secret masters about the meeting and then the next thing I know, I'm captured and hauled off to god knows where."

"I-I didn't know about that last part, I swear!"

"Oh no, I belive you. There's a lot you don't know about the princess. But let's not talk about the Princess at the moment, such rechted things leave a bad taste in my mouth."

The demon stepped out of the shadows, revealing his form. Raeven gulped when he saw the grotesque mask sitting ablight upon his face.

"You heeded my warning and came here in secret, so now we can move onto the subject that you're truly concerned about."

The demon revealed a syringe.

"I am indeed able to heal your son, and it pains me greatly to see such a young innocent child in pain, so here you are, this medicine will cure him."

He gently set it down in front of him.

Raeven bowed low to the ground.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

His thanks were immediately halted by Rhamnusia's words.

"Do not thank me yet, that is only a small sample of the medicine I offer, just to prove to you that it is the real deal.."

"Wha-?

"You will get the rest of it after you complete a small favor for me."

"F-favour? Wait, no! Anything! Anything to save my son!"

 _Yes! I would gladly sell my soul if he asked me to!_

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, then in that case, listen closely."


	10. Snap

**There is a part in this chapter about half way through where I attempt to analyze the physics of Brain's martial art [Wind of the Great Forest], and to do so requires A LOT of math. I understand that a many of you will absolutely ABHOR me for daring to do such a thing, but I also know that a lot of nerds out there will eat this stuff up. Feel free to check my math. It won't hurt my feelings if you just want to skim through it though, in fact, I expect most of you to do that anyways.**

* * *

Vera heard a knock on their door.

Stockwell and Niven were still hard at work in the laboratory, so she went to go answer it by herself.

"Just a second!"

She unlocked the door and was greeted with a familiar sight.

"Seabs-san!"

Standing on the porch was the butler that they had encountered a little over a week ago. His bow was immaculate.

"Good morning, lady Vera."

"What brings you here?"

"It's about her."

He stepped aside to reveal a young blonde with an adorable charm. She was wearing a maid moment she saw Vera, she panicked and hid behind the butler once more.

Sebas turned and talked to her gently.

"That isn't very polite, Tsuare, she is one of the people who helped to save and heal you after all."

She nearly cried and bowed sloppily.

"S-Sorry."

Sebas turned to Vera once more.

"As you know, she has had a rough background. She has forgotten how to properly communicate with others."

Vera nodded in understanding.

"Why did you bring her here?"

Sebas's expression turned grim.

"It appears that I'm still being hunted by the Eight-Fingers for rescuing her. I just turned away a man who came to my mistress's abode looking for her."

Vera seemed surprised.

 _Wow, I didn't think Cocco Doll still had men to spare with the Six-Arms gone._

"I-I see."

Sebas continued.

"As much as it shames me to do so after already receiving so much aid, I ask of your help once more. I remember hearing from you that this house was safe from the Eight-Fingers, so I humbly ask that you allow Tsuare to stay here for the rest of the day so that I can resolve this matter with peace of mind that she's safe."

Vera nodded in thought as she looked over the quivering maid clutching Sebas's arm.

Suddenly, she smiled.

"Of course she can stay for the day. I doubt Wesley will have a problem with it."

Sebas nodded to Tsuare, and after several seconds of prodding, the maid finally left Sebas's side.

"Thank you. I'll come around either tonight or tomorrow morning to pick her up."

"Of course."

After bowing one final time, Sebas left down the street, heeding the three assassins hiding in the shadows that were still following him from the moment he left his and Solution's house. He sensed that the three of them were distressed when Tsuare entered the Grey Wolf's home.

He smiled to himself and continued down the street.

After Sebas ws long gone, Stockwell came to see what all the commotion was about.

He saw the maid sitting on the couch with Vera next to her, trying to make her feel comfortable.

"Uhhh, Vera?"

"Sebas-san dropped her off for protection, he said that the Eight-fingers are still after him and Tsuare-san."

"Tsuare?"

"Her name."

Tsuare turned a terrified smile to Stockwell and flinched when she felt his judgmental gaze.

"I see…"

"Sebas-san left her and said that he was going to go resolve the matter."

"Huh?"

"I don't know what he means by that either, I think he might be planning on getting his mistress to storm the brothel."

Suddenly Stockwell's eyes opened in realization.

"Vera, can I have a chat with you in private?"

"Hmm? Sure."

They left Tsuare alone and headed to a back room. After making sure that she couldn't hear, Stockwell continued.

"This might be bad."

"What do you mean?"

"Cocco Doll has absolutely no strength to stand on, he's just boasting his power around. If that butler's mistress is actually serious about taking Cocco Doll out, she'll probably have no problem doing so."

"How is that bad?"

"Well, it's not bad per say, I was planning on dissolving the slave trafficking anyways since its become such a liability, but if other powers get involved, it means that we might miss a valuable opportunity as well as possibly risk an information leak through Cocco Doll's capture."

After taking a moment, she nodded in understanding.

"Then what do we do?"

"We cut Cocco Doll loose ourselves."

He came out of the backroom and called out to Niven who was still working quietly in the laboratory.

"Niven! You're on babysitting duty! Make sure the girl doesn't get into the chemicals and hurt herself!"

…

It was early in the afternoon and Stockwell and Vera stood outside the shady looking door, Cocco Doll's last stronghold in the kingdom. The two of them were fully kitted.

"Are you ready?"

Vera nodded and pulled the gas mask over her face. Stockwell did the same.

He knocked on the door four times in quick succession, as per the password.

After the sound of three separate locks being undone, it slowly creaked open to be succeeded by a hoarse voice.

"Who are you-"

The man looked at Stockwell's mask and whitened. He flung the door open with a shriek.

"R-Rhamnusia-sama! Calico-sama! C-Come right in!"

Stockwell strided in followed by Vera. There were two others in the dark little room, but Stockwell paid them no heed.

"Where's Cocco Doll?"

The man whitened once more.

"H-He s-said that he didn't want to see anyone right now..."

Stockwell drew his rifle, and rested it lightly on the man's shoulder. If Stockwell had not been wearing a gasmask, he would've smelt a pungent cocktail of detritus and urine.

"Aiiieeeee, J-Just kidding! Right this way!"

"Thank you."

Stockwell turned to address Vera.

"Investigate the brothel a few houses up to see if you find anything useful, don't bother trying to find me afterwards, go ahead and meet me back at our rendezvous point when you're done."

She nodded and they went their separate ways.

…

After guiding Stockwell through the maze-like building to the aforementioned room, the guide quickly bowed and turned tail to go and change his leaking underpants.

Stockwell didn't bother knocking. He simply forced the flimsy wooden door open and strided in, startling the man inside.

"I said I didn't wish to be disturbed-!"

Cocco Doll looked at the gasmask like a deer in a pair of headlights..

"-R-Rhamnusia-sama! H-How can I help you today!"

He was kneeling, phallus exposed, over the limp body of a naked adolescent boy, two more kids were lying in the corner, either unconscious or dead. He quickly withdrew and began to redress his lower body.

"J-Just a minute please!"

Stockwell crouched down and sighed.

"Oh no, don't mind me, I actually suggest that you continue with whatever you were doing."

"W-wha-"

"It'll be the last time you get to enjoy yourself after all."

"W-what do you mean-"

His eyes opened with realization. He was frozen over the boy's body. He began to shake uncontrollably.

"W-Wait! Rhamnusia-sama! Y-You don't know what you're doing! I can - I can still-"

"You can still do what? You're slave trade has become more trouble than it's worth."

"But-"

"Financially, you're broke, or at least will be soon, there's no economic incentive to keep you around."

"B-But I still have merchandise! We could-"

"Slaves have no place in modern society, and will only become a liability once industrialization occurs, not interested."

"But-"

"Next, security. You're spread far too thin now that the six-arms are no longer around to back you up, it's only a matter of time before someone comes barging down that door."

"But that's your fa-!"

"Were you going to suggest that that's my fault?"

Cocco Doll froze. He felt the demon's murderous gaze.

"N-No. I-I- It's just that-"

"Just what?"

"J-Just that I wouldn't be in this position if you would've been kind enough to lend me some of your magic weapons, like you did for Hilma and the others-"

"-You are undeserving of my powder. And besides, even if I did lend you support, I doubt you would've been able to keep this place from falling apart anyway, hell, as I hear it, you can't even recapture one single women."

"But I did find her! I already sent assassins to get the one responsible for-"

"-..."

Cocco Doll gulped. It was all true, he had nothing to offer the demon, and no one to fall back on. He broke down.

"Please, Rhamnusia-sama! Take everything I have! Just don't take my life! You gain nothing by killing me!"

"Oh but that's where you're wrong dear Cocco Doll, I have everything to gain by killing you. You see, I'd bet the princess would love to have your head on her mantle."

"P-Please. God…"

"God? Oh no, don't waste your time praying to that guy, he's far more cruel than I am."

"Who...Who are you?"

"Why, I'm Rhamnusia, the demon of justice of course."

Cocco Doll was still kneeled over the limp naked body of a boy. The demon walked up to him and put the rifle to the back of his head.

"And because I'm such a kind and fair deity, I'll let you finish what you are doing before taking your life."

Cocco Doll's libido had long since died, and his phallus hung limply near the exposed bottom of the boy.

"What's wrong? Not going to accept my offer? That's a shame-"

He slowly squeezed the trigger.

"-No! Wait!"

Cocco Doll let off a pained cry and tears fell from his face. He brought his hand down to massage his phallus.

With the rifle still glued to the back of his head, he began to take the boy. He cried, trying to prevent himself from climaxing for as long as possible.

...

 **Hello, The Blight here. Sorry to interrupt you, dear readers, but I'm going to have to put a short little message here to basically tell everyone this: After Sebas drops off Tsuare, he proceeds down the road and events unfold in the original canonical fashion.**

 **I.E, He meets Climb and Brain and makes the two of them wet their panties with his Sebas-powers. After that, they disable and interrogate the assassins sent by Cocco Doll that were following him. And after finally getting the information they need, they then head to the brothel to finish the job. I just thought that putting this simple message here and starting off with the scene from the LN of them standing outside the brothel was a better alternative to smoothing out the scene changes than basically just rewriting all of Vol.5 Ch.4 and just repeating everything you guys already know.**

"The brothel is just behind this door. According to the assassin, there ought to be an entrance in the building over there too."

Sebas stood at the entrance to the brothel, in front of the door where Tsuare had been thrown out. Then, he pointed at a building several houses away. Brain and Climb had been present when he was questioning the assassin, but they had not been to the brothel before, and they accepted Sebas' explanation at face value.

"Indeed, that is so. The entrances can also serve as escape routes, and that person said they'd be manned by at least two people. If we're splitting up, we should let you handle the main door, Sebas-sama, while Climb and I take the other entrance. What do you think?"

"I am not opposed to that. How about you, Climb-kun?"

"I have no objections either. Still, what will we do after we break in, Unglaus-sama? Shall we search together?"

"Call me Brain in future. This one also humbly requests you do the same, Sebas-sama. Then… usually, we ought to move in pairs for safety's sake, but there might be secret tunnels which even the assassin hasn't heard of. We should search the interior as quickly as possible while Sebas-sama makes his assault from the front. Also, there are usually passages which only the boss knows," Brain added quietly.

"In that case, should we split up after going in?"

"...We're taking a risk just going in anyway. Might as well try for the best results we can."

Sebas and Climb nodded at Brain's statement.

"Could I ask you to search the interior, Un— Brain-sama? You're stronger than me, after all."

"Very well. Then please watch over the exit over there, Climb-kun."

One was more likely to encounter enemies when searching the inside of the building. It went to follow that the task would thus be more dangerous. Therefore, it was best left to Brain, who was much stronger than Climb.

"So that's it for our final checks, then?"

They had already discussed this matter on the way to the brothel, but there were some decisions which could only be made after seeing the place in person. They would hash out the details here, and nobody contradicted Sebas' statement.

Sebas stepped forward, moving up to the solid-looking metal door of the brothel. Climb would never be able to budge that door, but to Sebas it was little more than tissue paper.

"Then let us proceed. According to the assassin, the secret signal at the other entrance is knocking four times on the door. I doubt either of you have forgotten, but I doubt a reminder will hurt."

"Thank you, Sebas-sama."

Brain and Climb went to go investigate the other building. They shook their heads and smirked ruefully when they heard the sound of Sebas plowing through the heavy metal door like a wrecking ball behind them.

…

Brain knocked on the shady looking door four times in quick succession.

Climb clutched his weapon tightly.

The sound of heavy footsteps came from behind the door. Then they heard the sound of locks disengaging - three, to be precise.

In the instant which the door opened, Climb pulled it wide open, in accordance to the plan.

Brain had already slashed his way in before the people inside could even cry out in surprise. There was the sound of a body being cut apart, followed by that of a heavy object hitting the ground.

Climb was a step behind Brain as he charged inside.

He entered just in time to see Brain cut down his second man. There was one more person within the room, a man in leather armor and carrying a short sword. For some reason, he seemed to be drying out a pair of underpants. Climb rushed him and closed the distance in an instant.

"Ah! Who the hell are you?!"

The man stabbed at Climb with his blade, but Climb easily deflected it with his sword.

After that, Climb raised his sword high, and brought it down on the man from above.

The man tried to block it with his dagger, but a mere short sword could not withstand a strike with Climb's full weight behind it. Climb's sword deflected the short sword away and his blade sank into the man's shoulder, carving through his larynx.

After verifying the wound he had dealt was mortal, Climb rushed deeper into the room, riding the flow of the battle while remaining alert. No enemies came out from hiding to meet him. He could hear Brain running up the stairs to the second floor behind him.

He then proceeded to check his own floor.

After climbing the stairs to the third floor, he cautiously rounded the corner. He saw that one of the rooms in the hallway had had it's door forced open. He tentatively crept up to it and peeked his head inside the room.

His skin turned whiter than his armor.

Inside the room was a man shrouded completely in black. He seemed to be heavily armed, his arms, hands, and back seemingly in full bloom with ominous metal armements. And on his face-

-a mask that disturbed him deeply.

He had heard about the demon's appearance from several rumors and reports made by Blue Rose, but words did little to convey the true horror of seeing it in person.

The demon's name appears in his mind.

 _Rhamnusia! So he's working with the Eight-Fingers after all!_

The demon was crouched over the lifeless body of an adult male, he seemed to be using a dagger to cut something.

 _He-He! He's decapitating him!_

Climb glanced around the room, there were three more bodies, all young boys. He threw up in his mouth.

 _This-This is bad! I need to get Brain-sama! According to Blue Rose, this isn't an enemy I can defeat!_

He began to pull away from the door when-

"Oh, I thought I heard some commotion going on."

The demon's voice scared Climb stiff. He had been noticed.

"Now now, don't be afraid child-"

Climb took a deep breath.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!"

He shouted with all his might, as though he were trying to dump out all the air in his lungs.

There was no way he could win if he fought alone. Capturing this person and preventing his escape would count as a victory for him. Allowing someone as strong as this man - in other words, someone who might know a lot of important information - to escape would be a complete loss.

That being the case, why should he hesitate in crying for aid?

Rhamnusia seemed to be taken aback.

 _Wait, that's Renner's dog isn't it? What's he doing here.?I didn't take him for such a coward. Oh-? I spoke too soon._

Climb stepped into the doorway and drew his sword, preventing the demon's escape.

 _Oh I see, he intends to keep me here until his allies arrive. How cute, look, he's shaking._

Climb was indeed shaking like a terrified dog, but he stood stalwart.

Rhamnusia put his hands in the air in a lazy, "I surrender" fashion.

"You know my boy, I'm actually on your side."

Climb looked surprised for a second, lowering his sword slightly. He then brought it back up immediately after glancing the room once more.

"Your tricks wont work on me! I will hold this door! You will not pass so long as I still draw breath!"

 _Well, that figures, I imagine my argument isn't very convincing considering where I'm standing._

"Climb-kun! I'm here! Where's the enemy-"

Stepping into the door behind Climb was a katana wielding warrior. He paused when he saw the demon's grotesque mask.

"B-Brain-sama! Be careful, I think he's the demon Rhamnusia. He's dangerous!"

"Get behind me, don't move from that spot whatever you do, I'll handle this."

Brain stepped in front of Climb. He called out to the demon.

"Who are you?"

The demon rolled his eyes behind the mask.

"Didn't you hear the dog, I'm Rhamnusia? Who are you?"

"It's Brain Unglaus, prepare yourself."

Brain crouched into his stance, putting his right hand on the handle of his sheathed sword.

"What is it with you people always immediately resorting to violence? I've actually already done you guys a huge favor-"

Climb interrupted.

"-Don't listen to him! He's the guy that Blue Rose has been after!"

"Thanks for the tip. I won't hold back." _I won't underestimate my opponent like last time. My best bet will be to take his head in one strike before he has a chance to react._

[Ability Boost] [Field] The ground around Brain began to glow.

Rhamnusia sighed, though he wasn't particularly disappointed.

"Violence it is."

He approached the warrior nonchalantly. Thinking to himself.

 _Judging from that stance of his, he probably aims to draw his sword and decapitate me in one go. Alright let's see how this goes._

He pressed a small button on his left gauntlet-esque glove which visibly did nothing. And though it visibly did nothing, it was actually quite powerful and Stockwell's hand began to heat up as a side effect.

He continued walking and stopped just inside of Brain's [Field]. He clicked his heels together and a spring loaded spike rocketed from his sole and stabbed into the wooden paneling of the floor.

"Are you done with your preparations yet?"

Brain smirked to himself. He was training to overcome Shalltear Bloodfallen, a monster among monsters, he would not lose to some self-proclaimed demon.

 _I can feel it, this man in front of me is all bark and no bite. He's not like Sebas or Shalltear, I can feel it just by the way he walks and carries himself, he can't use martial arts, he's weak, this will cut his head clean off._

"Then here I go, this attack as only ever been stopped once."

"That arrogance will be your downfall."

Brain launched his attack [Wind of the Great Forest!], It was his trump card, a combination of [Field] and [God Flash]. The blade moved at indescribable speeds. In Brain's eye's, time had slowed down to a crawl. His blade unsheathed and he launched at the demon in slow motion.

His blade sailed through the air.

Rhamnusia's hand began to move.

 _Huh? What's he doing? Is he trying to defend with his hand?_

Given the speed at which time had slowed down in Brain's eyes, his opponent's hand was moving rather quickly all things considered.

 _That won't work my friend, though, I must admit you've got quick hands. But It seems like you'll just miss me._

Brain's blade sailed through the air in the blink of an eye, it passed just over Rhamnusia's desperately raised hand and lobbed his head off. The demon's body fell to the floor in an impressive shower of blood, his severed head thumping to the ground.

Or rather, that was what was supposed to happen, instead…

[Wind of the Great Forest!]

The moment Brain had launched his attack, Stockwell's only thought was to intercept the blade. In his extreme focus, he had subconsciously activated two of his new world abilities. One was that of his Chemist class, a skill that had yet to be named which temporarily increased his hand dexterity.

The other was a skill belonging to the Physicist class. Simply put, at the cost of mana, It allowed him to do mathematical calculations at astonishing speeds. So much so that, while time did not physically appear to move slowly in his eyes, his brain had already comprehended and solved the nature of his mathematical delima and immediately took steps to act on its conclusions. To Stockwell, it felt like his body was moving instinctually.

Brain took a step forward and began to draw his blade. Stockwell's eyes captured this one frame of motion and his mind kicked into overdrive.

Thoughts blazed through Stockwell's mind at fanciful speeds, so fast that once it would be over, he would only faintly remember the experience. It went something like this:

 _Think of the sword as a lever system, with the hilt at the fulcrum, the center of the sword's mass being the load, and me being the impact point. The inertia at the impact point is the distance between the load and the fulcrum divided by the length of the lever, multiplied by the load._

 _The amount of mass I will have to react to will be the swords inertia at the impact point, traveling with it's given edge velocity._

 _Edge velocity being a linear function defined on the sword's center of rotation. Given that stance of his, said center of rotation for the sword will be his wrist. That velocity will then be added to the velocity of his wrist swinging around his elbow. That velocity will then be added to his elbow swinging around his shoulder. And then finally, that velocity will be added to the speed at which he is physically moving towards me._

 _Just looking at his wrist rotating around his elbow, he will likely reach me and complete a one third revolution in about a…_

 _Fifteenth of a second second maybe…?_

 _Christ...that's less than than the blink of the eye. That would give his elbow an angular velocity of approximately..._

 _(15/(⅓)/s)*2π ≈ 282.6 radians per second_

 _A safe guess for the length of his forearm would be around 0.28 meters. That would mean his wrist is moving at the linear velocity of approximately…_

 _(282.6 rad/s)*(.28m)_ ≈ _79.128m/s_

 _Now for the rotation of his shoulder and upper arm:_

 _Working under the assumption that his upperarm will rotate at most 40_ _by the time he completes his strike in 1/15 a second, it will be rotating 3 times slower than his forearm which will rotate about 120_ _ **.**_

 _That being the case, his elbow's relative velocity to his shoulder should be around 3 times slower than his wrist's relative velocity to his elbow, thus: (79.128m/s)/3 = 26.376m/s_

 _And after examining his stance, his sword's rotation around his wrist should be negligible. So I should use the angular velocity of his elbow to calculate the edge velocities of the sword._

 _Given that his sword is probably around 0.7 meters in length. It's maximum velocity at its tip will be..._

 _(282.6 rad/s)*(.07m)_ ≈ _197.82m/s_

 _His feet are moving towards me as well, he likely timed it so that he will complete his attack the moment he is close enough to strike me down. That'd be about 1.5 meters away, thus he will move about 3.5 meters. If he does that in a matter of 1/15 a second, that would give him a foot speed of…_

 _(3.5m)/(1s/15) = 52.5m/s_

 _...christ…eat your heart out Usain Bolt...this guy is impossible in every sense of the word._

 _So finally, adding everything together. His linear edge velocities will vary from…_

 _52.5m/s + 26.376m/s + 197.82m/s = 276.696m/s at the tip_

 _To_

 _52.5m/s + 26.376m/s + 79.128m/s_ _= 158.004m/s at the base_

 _What tremendous speed, much faster than anything on earth. Considering everything I know, this guys arm should be flying apart… but, this is the situation I find myself in._

 _Regardless, what would then be the most ideal point on his sword at which he maximises the product of velocity and apparent weight to maximize cutting power?_

The graph appeared in his mind.

 _Roughly 22% down from the tip of the sword, huh? As an experienced swordsman, he will know this intuitively and aim to hit me with that part of the blade._

 _Okay, then where is the ideal place then to stop it?_

The graph appeared in his mind once more.

 _Roughly 39% up the blade then? Yes, that makes sense, that's right near its center of mass. If sufficient shock mitigation is applied, It will stop both it's angular and linear momentums and bring the blade to a clean halt, minimizing my chance of injury._

 _If his sword is made of steel, it most likely weighs a little over a kilogram._

 _I plan on intercepting the blade 39% up the way up from it's hilt, where it's apparent weight is at its maximum and its velocity is near it's lowest so as to efficiently stop it's momentum, that being the case, a good estimate for the energy I'll have to take on may be..._

 _276.696m/s - 158.004m/s = 118.692m/s_

 _(118.692m/s)(39/100) + 158.004m/s_ ≈ 204.294m/s

 _½ *1.1kg*(204.294m/s)^2_ ≈ 23KJ …

 _Tsk… My shock absorber will mitigate and disperse the vast majority of that and send it into the ground, but I'd be lucky to get away without any fractured bones._

 _A formidable strike indeed…. It's like I'm trying to stop a low speed car crash. Though, he is likely reducing his arm and the blade's weight with martial arts to keep himself from flying apart, so hopefully the actual energy I have to deal with is only a fraction of that 23KJ._

 _Thankfully the electromagnet embedded in the gauntlet will not only gide the blade into my palm, but also mess up his cutting angle. After messing up his cut, the stygilight plate on my palm will be more than enough to keep the blade from penetrating._

 _Very well then, Wesley, move._

With his mental processing completed in an instant, he willed his hand to move. He subconsciously activated his Chemist skill which increased his hand dexterity. He stepped forward and his left hand rose to intercepted the blade.

Brain's blade sailed through the air, and to the omniscient observer, it looked like it was still too fast for Stockwell to catch, it would just barely pass over the raised hand and meet the demon's neck.

Brain celebrated inside.

 _Your head is mine!_

However, just feet away from the raised gauntlet, it altered its trajectory.

A slight magnetic pull changed the trajectory of the blade and guided it into the armored hand. Metal crashed into metal with the sound of thunder.

And then…

"Wha-"

Brain was speechless.

Rhamnusia had stopped the blade dead in its tracks, his hand gripping it roughly a third of the way up. The ground had been torn up behind him.

 _That hurt like hell, but it seems I managed to escape without any serious injuries._

The demon began to chuckle.

The air dropped in temperature around him and Brain broken into a terrified, cold sweat.

"...Im-Impossible…"

Brain's face contorted with inanity

"N-No, It can't be…not again."

He began to struggle, but not only were his muscles weak with an insane, paralyzed fear, but the electromagnet was still on, trapping the katana in an iron fist.

Rhamnusia smiled dementedly behind the mask, he was pleased with the warrior's reaction.

 _Time for stage two._

He subtly reached around and pressed another button. The small tank of gas he kept on his back made a soft noise and an automatic spark igniter triggered near the noseles sprouting from his gauntlet.

A small but hot torch blasted to life.

The crisp blue flame heated and cut in to a small section of the katana.

"This is a nice katana you have here, Mr. Brain Unglaus. It must have been expensive."

Brain instinctively knew what was about to happen.

In the south, far from the Kingdom, there was a city in the desert. Stories of blades that carved steel like mud came from there, weapons which were far superior to weakly enchanted magic weapons even without any enchantments of their own. Such swords commanded staggering prices, enough to make one's eyeballs pop out when one heard of them. Those weapons were what Brain wanted.

And in the end, he had finally obtained one, his very own [Katana]

"No-"

 _ **Snap.**_

Rhamnusia snapped the weakened blade where he held it. He dropped the broken blade to the ground along with the warrior's soul.

Brain collapsed to his knees, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

He had lost everything. His newfound motivations, his aspirations about Climb and Sebas, his reinvigorated friendship with Gazef. Everything he had just finally regained only hours ago, they all died with the drop of the broken blade.

He began to sob. He was now nothing more than a terrified child, who had once again been shown the extent of his naivete.

He couldn't take it anymore. His world had been crushed two too many times now. Tears continued to roll from his face. At least when Shalltear had defeated him, his sword was spared, he was at least able to bounce back because of it. But now...

...He dropped the hilt of his broken sword.

"Brain-sama!"

Climb called out to him, but Brain could not hear.

His eyes turned hollow and he limply hunched over.

The demon chuckled and turned to Climb.

"Well well well, it seems I broke your buddy here."

Climb was shaking with fear.

 _I need to- I need to flee! B-But I can't just leave Brain-sama here!_

He held his sword forward.

"Y-You're not getting past me!"

The demon clapped his hands and started walking toward the body that he had been working on earlier.

"Ahhh, a brave one I see. It's really rather adorable to see you bare your fangs after hearing all the things the princess says about you behind your back."

"Shut your mouth demon!"

"Ohhh but it's true. 'Ohhh~ Climb and his adorable gaze~ I want to chain him up completely and raise him like a dog~!."

The demon continued to chuckle as he leaned over and picked something off the ground. He started walking towards Climb in the doorway, hiding the item behind his back.

"Such fitting things for a two-faced treacherous whore to say."

Climb fell for the taunt.

"Ahhhhhh!"

It was an attack made without any sort of plan, he raised high and brought it down on the demon.

[High Vertical Strike!]

Rhamnusia had just caught a blade ten times as fast and a hundred times as powerful. It was almost laughable.

But from Climbs perspective, it looked like he might actually score a hit on the demon.

Rhamnusia's magnetized hand caught the blade with ease. He rolled his eyes and activated the torch.

"H-How!? That should have missed your hand! My Blade moved on its own!"

Climb was stunned.

Rhamnusia snapped the heated blade where he grabbed it and Climb realized just how foolish he had been.

"Exploiting my second favorite of the four fundamental forces of nature my boy. Simple science. Here, give Renner my regards."

The demon shoved an item into the boys chest.

"What?"

Rhamnusia strided out of the room, but Climb could not find the reason or will to pursue him.

The demon disappeared down the hallway.

"...we're alive…"

Eventhough the demon had escaped, it seems like there was nothing they could've done about it in the first place considering his overwhelming power. He considered himself lucky that he and Brain had been spared

He shook the shock and fear out of his head, they still needed to find Cocco Doll.

He realized that he was still holding the item in his hands.

He looked down.

"AhhH!"

His eyes grew wide and he dropped it to the ground with a *plop*. He had found Cocco Doll.

...

After Sebas plowed the door down, he took two steps into the dark room.

He immediately noticed that something was off. No one was there to meet him.

 _This room stinks of death._

The strong scent of blood permeated the room. His acute scenes accurately determined the source. He turned his head to a hidden trapdoor in the corner that had been flung open.

He walked over and examined it.

"Oh my…"

There were three dead bodies cramped underneath the trapdoor.

"Oh, I see…"

The trapdoor actually opened into a corridor underneath, but it seems that someone had destroyed the staircase.

"They must have been trying to escape from whoever did this and were killed quickly after realizing the staircase had already been destroyed."

He hopped down into the corridor, avoiding the corpses. He examined the splintered and charred remains of the staircase.

"Most likely a lightning spell."

He turned back towards the rest of the dark corridor. The scent of death filled his nose.

The doors of the small rooms had all been opened. He came to the first room and looked inside.

"Oh my…"

It was a small room, with only a cabinet and a bed as furnishings. His senses picked up that there were still several living people inside. He looked to a group of huddled women lying either terrified or unconscious in a corner.

Laying on the bed was the bloodied corpse of man. A bullet had passed through his forehead and left a crater on the wall behind him.

"Well isn't that interesting..."

It seemed that before he had been shot in the head, he had been shot in the crotch.

He quietly pulled away from the room. He trusted that Climb and his people would take care of the women afterword, so he continued to the next room.

He was met with a near identical scene: A man with two bullet holes, through the head and through the crotch.

As he continued down the brothel's rooms, he was able to get a picture of what had happened. Someone had come through here and mercilessly shot ever man in the crotch before finishing them with a bullet to the head.

He found himself slowly becoming impressed with the would-be shooter. He was already silently praising the shooter for their initiative at serving justice on the brothel's users, but as he examined each body, he was impressed for a different reason.

"What superb accuracy…"

Every single shot had landed in exactly in the same place. From the positions and orientations of the bodies, it was clear that there was a mass panic and people were running all over the place trying to escape. Nevertheless, the shooter had been able to shoot every single one of them in the same two places.

After clearing the whole place and confirming that there were no survivors save the women, he respectfully headed back to the trapdoor and lept back up the ground floor.

...

Sebas exited the building and headed towards the place a few houses down that Brain and Climb were clearing out.

He was met by Climb who was also exiting the building. Brain was using him as a crutch, or actually- it would be more precise to say that Climb was dragging Brain around on his shoulder.

"Sebas-sama…"

"What's wrong?"

Sebas noticed that while Brain was awake, he had a dead look in his eyes..

Climb laid Brain down and collapsed to the ground with nervous exhaustion. He continued after nodding to Sebas that they were okay.

"We ran into Rhamnusia."

Sebas's eyes lit up. He immediately sprung to the mouth of the building that Climb and Brain had just come out of.

"He's already gone, you missed him by five minutes."

Sebas silently cursed himself. If he hadn't been so captivated by the scene of the massacre in the brothel, he probably would've made it in time.

He sighed and went back to Climb, even if he didn't make in time, he would still at least be able to gain some information on the demon that Ainz said that they should be wary of.

"Tell me what happened."

...

Stockwell came back to the Rendezvous point. It was a vacant warehouse that connected to their house via a back alleyway. It was rather convenient because it meant that they could safely get in and out of kit in relative secrecy.

He found Vera sitting alone on a broken crate, unmasked in the middle of the empty warehouse.

He came up behind her and took off his gas mask.

"You seem troubled."

Vera wordlessly nodded, she was hugging her shoulders and staring into space.

"I killed them all."

Stockwell nodded.

"I know, I heard the gunshots from the other building when I was dealing with Cocco Doll."

"I've killed many people in my life, but...but never people who were defenseless. I knew that they were terrible people but...they...they were all trying to run away from me…I...I..."

She took a breath and continued.

"...I enjoyed it."

She turned her eyes to meet Stockwell's. He looked into her mismatched eyes, the marble of pyrite and the marble of onyx, there was clear distress behind them.

"Does that make me evil?"

Stockwell gave her a warm smile.

"Of Course not, Vera, you acted justly. Violence is just an inevitably in this world. I think you performed marvelously. You have a talent, Vera, planting bullets in peoples skulls is your calling, I think you should embrace it."

She hugged him and buried her face into his chest, soaking it in tears. This was actually rather dangerous considering all of the poisons and explosives he was carrying that were ready to go off at a moments notice.

"-Hai."

Stockwell paused for moment. He had only been in the position to emotionally comfort someone a scant few times back on earth. And even then, his time on earth now only seemed like a distant memory.

He just simply went with what felt natural. He put his hand on her head and brushed his fingers through her flowing black hair.

He reminded himself that humanity and emotions still existed in this new world-

-because he had nearly forgotten what species he belonged to.

...

Night had fallen by the time they returned to the house. They went in through the hidden backdoor for obvious reasons and changed out of their kit.

"Hey, it smells pretty good in here-"

"-Nice job Miss Tsuare!"

Vera and Stockwell walked into see Tsuare and Niven preparing treats in the kitchen.

Tsuare giggled and gave off a smile that would melt even the coldest of hearts.

"Thank you, Niven-sa-n."

"You're so good at this! It's much better than what Miss Vera makes."

He turned and saw Stockwell and Vera approaching him.

"Dah! Miss Vera! I didn't mean it! You're food is great too!"

Tsuare laughed which prompted Niven to laugh as well.

Vera smiled and joined the pair. She turned to the adorable blonde in the maid outfit.

"You seem to have gotten over your anxiety."

Tsuare blushed and nodded.

"Niven-sa-n is really nice… He taught me a lot of new recipes."

Niven blushed and gave her a big toothy smile.

"D'awwww well, after you told be about this Sebas guy you're so in love with, I couldn't just sit by and let you go without teaching you how to make some proper desserts for him."

Tsuare's face reddened maddly. Suddenly, she smiled and laughed lightly along with Niven. She smiled like a girl in love.

"Hai!"

Stockwell rolled his eyes, things were getting a little bit too mushy for his tastes.

"I suggest you all get some rest, it's going to be a busy day tomorrow-"

He fell over without warning and hit the ground hard. He was knocked out cold.

"Wesley!" Vera rushed over to him.

"Miss Vera! Whats wrong with him?"

She lifted him up and pressed her ear to his chest. Relief filled her when she heard his heart beat. She studied his face and sighed. "He's just unconscious... I've seen this before. It's similar to mana exhaustion, he must've overused his skills." _Gods it's like he has no idea how to use his own skills._

"He'll be fine with some rest... I think we all will."


	11. Trimming the Roses

It was the next morning and Blue Rose listened intently as Climb recounted his experience at the brothel. He had just begun to talk about Rhamnusia in detail.

"He managed to catch Brain-sama's sword with one hand... -"

Evileye spoke up.

"- Brain Unglaus? Isn't that the guy who lost to Gazef Stronoff in the martial arts competition?"

Tina nodded. "Though I heard it was a close fight, I'd rate him around Gagaran's level, if not higher."

Evileye scoffed. "That isn't really saying much."

Gagaran began to move but Lakyus beat her to it. She slapped the little vampire in the back of the head.

"Sorry about that. So it seems that this Brain Unglaus has skill, and you're saying that Rhamnusia stopped his strongest attack without taking any damage at all?"

Climb nodded.

"H-Hai. And also, once Rhamnusia had the blade in his hand, he cast some kind of fire spell and easily broke it in half."

Blue Rose nodded.

"Then perhaps it really is a demon we're dealing with here. Powerful fire spells are known to be staples among high-level demons."

Lakyus nodded and continued.

"Then a safe estimate for his difficulty level would have be around 110 to 120."

"Doesn't that seem a little high though? That would make him a treat even if all five of us were to attack him."

"Maybe, but with everything we've learned about him so far, it's clear that it's unwise to challenge him without ample back up. We also know next to nothing about his allies and his magical weapons, so we can't afford to be careless."

Lakyus leaned back and sighed.

"Well, the one promising thing we've learned from this then is that it's clear he's not working with Eight-Fingers."

Climb shuddered as he recalled holding on to Cocco Doll's severed head.

"That should at least give us some peace of mind, it also means that there's now one less location we have to attack."

They all nodded in affirmative.

"Then let's talk about the details of the raid, I'm thinking that in addition to the prince's and marquis' forces, Blue Rose should split into two separate teams…"

...

Vera opened the door to see the iconic butler. A carriage was waiting on the street just outside.

"Sebas-san! You're here."

"Indeed, I'm here to pick up Tsuare, how is she?"

"She's been an absolute pleasure."

The response seemed to surprise Sebas slightly. Vera turned around and called out into the house.

"Tsuare-san! Sebas-san is here!"

Tsuare and Niven appeared from a back room. They were all smiles.

Tsuare saw Sebas in the doorway. She turned her head and blushed. She proceeded to the door with Niven close behind.

"Come along Tsuare, your new home awaits."

Tsuare nodded and stepped out the door. She seemed a little sad for some reason.

Niven approached her.

"W-Will I get to see you again, Miss Tsuare?"

Sebas already knew that the possibility of ever seeing the boy again was low once they got to Nazarick.

Tsuare smiled and no longer seemed afraid of other people. She leaned down and placed a kiss on Niven's forehead.

"Thank you, maybe we will see eachother again and you can teach me how to make all of those neat things you talked about."

Niven blushed madly and put his hand on the back of his head, sheepishly rubbing his unruly black hair.

"H-Hai."

They waved as Sebas and Tsuare proceeded to the carriage and disappeared down the street. Vera nudged Niven with her shoulder.

"She's cute."

Niven blushed madly.

"I-It's not like that! R-Really though, it's not...:"

Their playful banter was interrupted by Stockwell who was all the way back in the laboratory.

"Is the girl gone yet!?"

Vera closed the door and called back.

"Yeah! She's gone!"

"Then let's get a move on! It's going to busy day with all the running we're going to have to do before night comes! Mr. Faber's been working at a rate of as one gun an hour for the last several weeks, so now we've got a hell of a lot muskets and pistols to hand out! Niven, you're holding down the house!"

"Hai!"

...

Raeven leaned over his son. He was splayed across the hospital bed, covered in dark rashes and barely breathing.

A priest watched nervously as Raeven brought a syringe to the boy's arm.

"I'm not too sure about this Marquis."

"What choice do I have!?"

He slowly inserted the syringe and squeezed until all the liquid had been emptied. The priest began his healing spell, but was so surprised by the results, he almost stopped himself.

The boy's rashes visibly started to clear and his fever began to drop. He coughed and began to open his eyes.

"Rii-tan! Rii-tan! Are you okay!? How do you feel!?"

The boy weakly lifted his hand but it started to waver. Raeven quickly caught it and brought it to his cheek.

"Papa's here, papa's here, what do you need?"

"...It hurts…"

Raeven was brutally reminded that the medicine was only a sample.

"...It hurts…"

The boy began to close his eyes and the dark rashes returned. The priest casting the spell began to wane.

Raeven wiped a tear from his eye.

"Papa's going to take care of you."

He nodded to the priest and left the temple, praying that the gods would forgive him for what he was about to do.

...

Night had fallen. The time had finally come for the operation to begin.

Lakyus crouched in the darkness of the alleyway. A murky layer of clouds had gathered over head earlier, blocking out the moon and drenching their world in darkness. They welcomed this darkness however, as the element of surprise was the linchpin of this operation's success.

She was surrounded by several dozen men. Half of them were dressed like city guard while the other half wielded various types of armor and weaponry, included among them were also several magic casters. It was a combined force of Prince Zanack's men and the mercenaries and ex-adventurers that Raeven had hired.

Ahead of them was their target, a solitary iron door that was rumored to contain and illegal gambling ring run by the Eight-Fingers deep within. Said rumors were later confirmed by the princess's intelligence network, and thus, the building had become a target for their unified raid.

A form materialized from the darkness ahead of them.

"Tina, how does the place look?"

The darkness morphed into a young women dressed like a ninja. The men made room for her and she crouched down in the middle of them.

"Everything looks good, I confirmed the existence of the gambling ring. And as far as security goes, they're down to a skeleton crew. I only saw two people guarding the door. I don't think they know we're here."

Lakyus nodded and the men let off a sigh of relief."

"In that case, we should have no problem with a frontal assault."

She stood up and addressed the men.

"I'll take care of the door, stay on by back and keep your eyes peeled."

After they responded in affirmative, they took their formation. Lakyus approached the door.

She took up the demonic blade, Kilineyram.

[Dark Blade Impact!]

She swung it down and the heavy iron door vaporized into sightless atoms along with the man behind it.

The other man who had just seen is friend killed stared in shock. "Who-Who are you! -"

He suddenly flopped face first to the ground, revealing the ninja standing behind him.

The forces behind them inhaled in amazement of the pair's skills. Lakyus smirked.

"We shouldn't meet too much resistance, but stay on the alert and follow my lead."

"Hai!"

…

"How much further is the gambling ring, Tina?"

Tina and the rest of the men were following closely on Lakyus's heels, they had already been winding through the narrow corridors for quite some time.

"It's only a few more bends further."

"Excellent, in that case-"

The pannelings on the walls suddenly came loose all around them, revealing dozens of men lying in wait. All of them were wielding muskets, and all of them were at point blank range.

 ** _B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-BANG-B-BANG-BANG-B-B-B-B-BANG_**

Their ears were assaulted by the sound of a rolling thunderstorm. Musket rounds zipped through their lines.

"Gah! What was that!?"

Lakyus and Tina had both been hit during the surprise volley. Many of the men behind them had been instantly killed by the close quarters sneak attack.

"It's the metal spitters that Rhamnusia had! They knew we were here! This was all a trap!"

"RAWWWWWWWWW!"

The men in the walls did not bother reloading as it would take too long, or rather, they had only been trained to hold the guns and pull the trigger at point blank, any reloading anyone would have tried to do would have been primarily guess work. They grabbed their secondary weapons and jumped out of the cubby holes and into the disoriented lines of the invading force.

Lakyus and Tina had little time to respond.

"Retreat!"

Even while injured from the musket fire, the two of them were able to easily dispatch the low leveled men coming at them, but the same thing could not be said about the forces behind them.

While Raeven's force of mercenaries and ex-adventurers were surprisingly calm and holding up remarkably well, Zanack's men were being absolutely slaughtered.

The close quarters combat was creating casualties at a remarkable rate. And even if Lakyus and Tina could easily survive and win the battle by themselves, if they stayed, all of their men would assuredly die in the process, which could hardly be counted as a victory. They needed to act quickly.

"Everyone get down!"

The invading force immediately responded to Lakyus's command and dropped to the floor. Lakyus doubled back into her men.

[Dark Blade Mega Impact!]

Her blade extended in length and she slashed everyone ahead of her that was still standing up. A large number of the enemy were cut down in an instant, but they were still far from safe.

She had only created an opening through which they could escape.

"Retreat!"

The two women and the men charged away with all their might, expecting to be pursued or blockaded.

However, the defenders seemed to decidingly let them go. They taunted them as the invaders retreated all the way back out and into the alleyway.

...

Lakyus leaned up against the wall of the alleyway, the men collapsed around her as well. The fighting had been brief, but it was intense. Tina looked to be in bad shape as well.

Their numbers had been nearly halved.

Almost the entirety of Zanack's forces had been eradicated. However, the vast majority of the ex-adventurers and mercenaries were still on their feet. That was to be expected though since they were generally much stronger that the royal guard that Zanack had supplied.

One of the adventurers who looked to be an alchemist/rouge handed Lakyus a potion.

"You're hurt."

"Huh?"

Lakyus had barely noticed due to adrenaline, but she was indeed bleeding from a couple of bullet wounds.

"Oh, yes, thank you."

She took the potion and downed it in one go. She felt her body relax and her wounds started to mend.

"Tastes a bit different from the normal healing potions."

A slightly displeased rely came from the hooded adventurer.

"Sorry about that. I'm a skilled alchemist, but even I have a hard time disguising the taste completely."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Lakyus dismissed him and turned to Tina.

"We need to inform the princess that the enemy was prepared for us. I imagine all of the other locations are encountering similar obstacles."

"Right, I'll go and-"

"I'm afraid you're not going anywhere."

The hooded adventurer stood up and lifted his hood.

"What are you talking about? -"

-Lakyus's eyes grew wide.

She had committed to memory the face of each and every head of the eight-fingers in case she had encountered one during the operation.

"You're-!"

"-Hector, head of the assassination department, pleasure to meet you."

All of the ex-adventurers and mercenaries that Raeven had hired suddenly adopted twisted smiles. No, they were never ex-adventurers in the first place.

The men surrounding Tina all produced concealed flintlock pistols.

"T-Thats why-!"

"Thats why so many of us made it out while most of Zanack's men got slaughtered? Yes, We were careful to avoid too much friendly fire."

"Why you-!"

Lakyus began to get up but immediately fell over, paralyzed. Hector seemed pleased.

"It really is hard to disguise the taste sometimes."

"-the potion…"

"Yes, the effects were: Healing, relaxation, clear skin, bad breath, paralysis, oh yeah… and death. And oh boy, you just went ahead and drank the whole thing down no questions asked didn't you? That makes me happy though, I made it especially for you afterall, I call it, 'The cure to Chuunibyuo'. "

Lakyus struggled to respond.

"How did you sneak into Raeven's forces...?"

"Sneak in? Oh no no, you misunderstand. Raeven accepted us with open arms, I was quite surprised myself."

He knelt down and lifted her face off the ground. He examined it in his hands.

"*whistle* I was sceptical at first, but now I can see that you're reputation as a cutie is well deserved."

"...Fuck you…"

"D'Awww, don't be like that Miss Aindra, I'm sure that whole thing about your armor only being equippable by virgins is myth."

Suddenly, he let go of her face and it slammed back down to the ground.

"But- It seems like we won't get the chance to test the validity of that myth. Rhamnusia-sama was very explicit when he ordered that there were to be no survivors."

Lakyus tried to respond, but the poison had already circulated her entire body and paralyzed her throat.

Her eyelids slowly closed. The last thing she saw as her world faded into darkness was Tina and the rest of prince Zanack's men being gunned down by pistol fire.

…

Evileye, Gagaran, and Tia marched down the corridor. Behind them was an entourage of men, a coalition of ex-adventurers/mercenaries and prince Zanack's private forces.

Evilieye turned to Tia.

"Where are we going after this again?"

Tia rolled her eyes, she had already recited the same sentence several times now.

"After we clear out this facility suspect of housing the banking department, we're to go and clear out a location suspected to hold the leader of the drug trade, Hilma."

The vampire scoffed in annoyance.

"This is taking too long, we haven't seen any enemies since-"

Suddenly, the pannelings on the walls dropped down to reveal dozens of men armed with muskets.

"What the-"

「Translocation Damage. 」

 ** _B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-BANG-B-BANG-BANG-B-B-B-B-BANG._**

Musket rounds whizzed through the invading forces lines. Though for so odd reason, they seemed to be very partial on only seeking out the men provided by prince Zanack.

"What the hell was that!?"

Through sheer force of luck, Tia and Gagaran had survived the volley with only grazes. Evileye also survived unscathed due to her spell, but sacrificed a great deal of mana in order to do so.

Tia immediately recognized what had happened.

"They're the same magical weapons that Rhamnusia had-!"

"RAWWWWWWWWW!"

The ambushers in the cubby holes jumped into the disoriented force and engaged in a brutal melee.

Evileye was simply not having it.

"Mass of muscle, Tia, move."

[Shard Buck Shots]

…

"Y-You'll protect me against Blue Rose, right?"

The head of the banking department shook nervously as Rhamnusia talked about the statistics of the invading force.

"Well, if everything goes well, they won't even manage to get here. Ah- listen."

They strained their ears across the hollow courtyard. They heard the unmistakable sound of a musket volley off in the distance. They then heard a resounding battle cry shortly after.

"It seems like everything is going according to plan."

The head of the banking department let off a relieved smile.

"Adamantite adventurers are assuredly strong, but even they-"

Rhamnusia paused.

"-W-what is it?"

"The sound."

The sounds of melee in the distance had been snuffed out all at once. The head of the banking department began to shake once more.

"D-Did we win?"

"I doubt it."

Rhamnusia began signalling to the woman hiding in the shadows of the courtyard.

"Perhaps I underestimated the power of the three of them, I suggest you go and hide."

…

Evileye had stopped the ambush single handedly. Though she had caused quite a bit friendly fire, ever single ambusher had been killed by Evileye's spell.

Prince Zanack's men had been nearly annihilated in the short but intense fray, but luckily, most of Raeven's forces were still unharmed.

They gazed in horror around them at all of the crystal shards poking out from the ambusher's bloody bodies.

Evileye turned to the men.

"All of you will only slow us down, split up and search the entire compound without us."

The ex-adventures and mercenaries didn't seemed to be too enthused about the order.

"B-But Evileye-sama, we-"

"You got a problem with it?"

They didn't understand how such a small girl could be so intimidating. They shook their heads nervously.

"R-Right away!"

After they broke apart, Evileye turned to Gagaran and Tia.

"Let's find the boss of this place so we can hurry up and get this operation over with."

...

The trio of women entered a large, outdoor courtyard that had been embedded within the compound.

Tia stopped them the moment they entered. Her voice held tones of worry.

"It's him. It's the demon."

Stepping out unto the lightless turf of the courtyard was the auspicious mask that they had been looking for. And even though they did not know the nature of his weaponry, it was obvious to them by the way he carried himself, that he was armed to the teeth.

His voice shattered the night.

"Yes, yes, welcome young ladies. Did you enjoy the little trap I set for you?"

Gagaran and Tia turned to the vampire. "What do we do?"

"We size him up. This is good opportunity to learn more about this enemy that's been always been a thorn in the Princess's side."

"Are you sure? That could be dangerous."

"We'll flee if this turns into a battle we can't win."

The trio continued onto the turf of the courtyard. The demon called out to them once more.

"Are you done strategizing young ladies?"

Evileve scoffed. "I'm much older than you think."

Rhamnusia rolled his eyes inside his mask. He waited while the trio made their formation. Evileye in the back with Gagaran and Tia in the front.

Stockwell examined them closely. _This is going to be a tricky fight, I can handle the other two, but that magic caster is going to be a problem if she casts anything other than lightning and fire spells. We'll just do what Vera and I always do, end this with a decisive strike before the enemy has a chance to get serious._

Evileye gestured to her teammates to start.

Gagaran and Tia charged.

[Fly]

Evileye rose into the air.

Rhamnusia made a small hand signal.

[Crystal -]

Evileye's mask shattered, revealing the utterly surprised expression of a twelve year old girl. Her teammates heard the sound and turned.

"Evileye!"

"Shorty!"

Evileye was unharmed, but she was far from calm. _That mask's strength was enhanced with magic! And it completely shattered in an instant! What the hell was that!?_

Evileye glared at Rhamnusia, fangs exposed, when he began to chuckle.

"Oh my, so you're a vampire then. Also, that must of been one hard mask, to think it saved you from Vera's bullet. Oh well, time for a second one."

He made another hand signal.

"Shit! [Translocation Damage!]

She had cast her spell just in time. The bullet collided with her forehead and harmlessly bounced off. She felt a massive drain on her mana as the physical damage was converted into mana loss.

Rhamnusia seemed disappointed. "Oh my my my, how annoying. To think that you were able to defend once again. I am constantly reminded again and again about how much I really hate this world."

Evileye was panicking, those hits were undeniably powerful. She calculated that she would probably only be able to take about eleven or tweleve more of them before her mana would be in a precarious spot.

Tia called out to her. "I think it's Calico!"

"Calico?"

"The person with the powerful magic weapon that Tina and I encountered back at the village. She must be hiding in the shadows somewhere!"

"Then see if you can get her! That weapon is a huge problem! As much as I don't like splitting up, it would be foolish to just let her keep shooting at us from a distance!"

Tia nodded and ran in Vera's general direction. [Hide Shadow], she disappeared into the darkness.

Evileye called out one more time into the shadows.

"Rhamnusia is rated to have at least a 110 difficulty rating, so it would make sense that his subordinates are powerful as well! Don't be stupid! Retreat if things get bad!"

Rhamnusia made another hand signal. _Vera is smarter than she gives herself credit for. She doesn't really have a head for science, but she does have great battle sense, I'll trust her to take to care of the ninja._

Gagaran and Evileye turned to Rhamnusia. "Let's do this."

"Right!"

Gagaran charged. Suddenly she did something that the demon did not expect. She threw her massive war pick .

 _Shit!_ He was just barely able to react in time due to his Physicist class. He narrowly avoided getting squashed like a bug. The pick smashed into the turf and fractured the ground where he had been standing just a fraction of a second earlier.

Gagaran expected this however, the war pick was just a distraction.

[Crystal lance!]

Evileye launched a cold elongated object in the demon's direction. He was still reeling from dodging the war pick and would not be able to dodge this attack.

"Yes!"

Evileye's expectations were immediately dashed when her lance shattered into tiny pieces in mid air. A bullet had smashed into the glass-like material.

Stockwell silently thanked Vera for the save.

"Don't take your eyes off of me!"

Gagaran reached the war pick and lifted it up. She moved surprisingly quick for someone of her build.

Rhamnusia backpedaled and pulled the tabs on the canisters strapped to his chest. A pale yellow gas erupted forth and Gagaran was blasted with chlorine.

"Get out of there muscle head!"

Gagaran heard her ally and quickly backpedaled out of the cloud. She was not unharmed however. She heeled over and began to retch. The pressurised gas continued to expand and she was forced to retreat even further.

Rhamnusia's voice pierced the sickly yellow cloud.

"Om my my my my, you sure turned tail quickly. Why don't you come back and try to squash me with that pick of yours? You'll be fine as long as you hold your breath."

Eviley hovered a great deal away from where her ally and the demon was, hiding in the cloud of poison gas.

"Don't fall for his taunt muscle head!"

Gagaran coughed up her last bit of bile. "You don't have to remind me."

The demon cackled gleefully.

"Oh but it's true fraulein! The chlorine gas won't hurt you too much as long as you close your eyes and hold your breath."

The demon's form began to move inside the thick veil of gas.

"A common problem with the people of this world is that they tend to underestimate my offence and overestimate my defense. I have good armor, but I really only have the innate natural endurance less than that of a copper plate. I would be in quite a bad spot if you actually managed to get even a single good hit on me."

Evileye called out once more. "He's just trying to trick you muscle head! Don't be stupid!"

"Like I said! You Don't have to remind me!"

The demon chuckled once more.

"The most challenging opponent I've had to face so far in this world was big ol' monk who simply charged me. He managed to deflect a couple bullets and throw me to the ground, I really only escaped with my life due to- ."

[Crystal Lan-]

 ** _Bang._**

A bullet zoomed out of the cloud of gas.

[Translocation Damage]. The damage was converted into mana loss. Evileye clicked her tongue, she would have to be forced to take the hits eventually or soon run the risk of running out of mana.

"It isn't very polite to interrupt your enemy when they're talking fraulein. Especially when they're giving you hints on how to defeat them. Hahahahaha, come and get me."

The demon laughed evilly and opened another canister of chlorine. The sickly yellow cloud around him increased in opacity and his form disappeared into the the chlorine.

Gagaran fell back to evileye and the vampire descended. "Oi, Shorty."

"What?"

"I think he's telling the truth. At least the part about the gas. As far as I can tell, it really did only affect my lungs and eyes, I think I can get to him as long as I close my eyes and hold my breath."

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid. I'm just saying that I can probably protect myself if need be and that we should come up with a plan."

Under the cover of his poisonous fog, Rhamnusia began to work. He took of the bottom two canisters off his bandoleer and opened their taps. These canisters did not contain chlorine however, but some kind of salt solution. He began to spill the clear liquid onto the ground of the courtyard, making sure to coat as large of an area around him as possible. He then detached an item from his battery pack that looked to be some kind of miniature spring loaded crossbow.

He quietly mumble to himself. "Aluminium chloride is expensive at the moment you know, this better not go to waste…"

Also, in the event that they encountered an undead, he had had Mr. Faber craft a set of rounds from an ingot of enchanted silver they required from the mages guild. He took his time exchanging the rounds in his rifle.

Evileye and Gagaran were still discussing their plans. They looked into the thick yellow gas.

"Without anyway to blow away the poison gas, we won't be able to accurately target him. Also, if I charge in there, I'll be closing my eyes and mouth the whole time which means not only will I not be able to see him, but I'll be fighting the whole time while holding my breath and listening only with my ears."

They furrowed their brows.

"I can try throwing Fel Iron, but once it's lost in the fog, I probably won't be able to get it back."

Evileye nodded.

"In that case, it would be better to provoke him and make him reveal his position to us so that you can get one good swing on him. His primary weapon makes a lot of noise."

Gagaran nodded in agreement.

"Last time I got close to him he opted to dodge and flee rather than parry. That leads me to believe that he isn't good with close combat. If that's the case, if you can get him to discharge that weapon, I could probably locate him in the fog and take a few swings at him."

Evileye nodded and rose into the air. "He probably set up traps while we were talking, I'll try to disarm them with my buck shots which will also hopefully provoke him. I'll also try to give you cover if I can."

She looked down at the massive cloud of poisonous gas in front of her. She outstretched her hands.

[Shard Buck Shots!]

Sharp crystals about the size of ping pong balls materialized in the air around her. She launched them into the cloud like a hail storm.

Gagaran began to orbit the cloud, waiting for her opportunity.

The buckshots rained down through the poisonous gas and Rhamnusia braced himself.

 _Damn this hurts!_

The shots were weak individually and could not pierce his stygilight mail, but that's not to say that the didn't hurt like hell. It felt like he was getting stoned.

He raised his rifle and shot in Evileye's general direction, because, of course while she couldn't see him, he also couldn't see her.

 ** _Bang. Bang._**

The bullets whizzed out of the fog and easily missed the magic caster.

She called out to Gagaran. "Go!"

Gagaran had already taken her deep breath and charged into the gas.

Evileye stopped her [Shard Buck Shots] to avoid friendly fire.

She then turned to where she though Rhamnusia to be after hearing the gun shots.

[Acid Spla-]

The demon's voice pierced the gas.

"WIll you just be quiet for christ's sake!?"

The area of yellow gas around where she though Rhamnusia must of been began to glow orange.

"What the-"

 ** _Fizz. Fizz._**

Two small firework esque projectiles about the size of soda cans rocketed out of the gas.

"[Crystal Wall!]"

A wall of crystal appeared in front of her.

 ** _Boom. Boom._**

One rocket exploded in mid air beside her and the other collided with her wall before exploding. She had easily saved herself from getting damaged.

However, The rockets were effective not because of the explosions they made but the cloud of gas they left behind.

Each rocket had exploded into a cloud of dark red vapor and they expanded towards evileye, easily overcoming her wall.

She screamed in pain as her skin and eyes were met with a caustic cloud of concentrated capsaicin. She fell out of the air.

Her sacrifice was not in vain however. Gagaran had been given more than enough information to determine Rhamnusia's location.

Stockwell clicked his tongue when he heard the warrior's footsteps approaching. _She's faster than me, I need to slow her movements._

He brought his hand to a canister on his bandoleer, it contained the newest addition to his chemical arsenal.

He hesitated slightly, asking himself if he really wanted a cloud of the stuff erupting from his chest. He had designed and coated his cloak to deal with the new chemical, and he had also upgraded the filters in his gas mask in preparation for its use, but even so, considering the concentrations of the chemical he would be having to deal with, it would not be a good idea for him to linger around it for more than a few minutes. It was really that volatile of chemical and was really that hard to protect one's self from, as it was a gas that could easily pierce through most clothing.

He shook the worries out his head, reminding himself that if worse comes to worse, he had an antidote waiting for him back home. And no matter how dangerous the stuff was to handle, it was infinitely safer than allowing Gagaran to wallop him.

He pulled the tab and backpedaled away from Gagaran once more.

"C2H2AsCl3, Get ready to smell the geraniums fraulein."

A pressurised brown-green vapor erupted forth and mixed with the chlorine, producing a sickening vomit color.

Gagaran had her eye's closed and her olfactory sense had long since been destroyed by the chlorine, and as such, she had no way of knowing that she was about to charge into a new set of poisonous gas.

She heard the demon's foot steps and quickened her pace after realizing how close she was.

It took every amount of steel will she had to not open her mouth and scream at the pain she suddenly felt upon every single surface of her body all at once.

The gas had easily maneuvered itself into the seams and joints of her armor and made contact with her skin. Rashes appeared immediately and to her, it felt like she was running naked through a cloud of needles. Due to charging head first into the incredible concentration of vapor, the chemical had easily attacked every surface of her body in mere moment's, not even the insides of her genitals were safe.

She now understood exactly how far she had underestimated the power of Rhamnusia's poisonous gases. No, she had been a fool to even attempt to get close to him in the first place. She should've just simply let Evileye handle the whole thing.

Yet despite all of this, she managed to keep her mouth closed. She knew that the moment she allowed herself to breath in the atmosphere, she would be too debilitated to fight back.

Her pace was slowed but she continued forward knowing that it would be worth it if she managed to atleast get one good hit in.

But this slight slowing of pace was all the demon needed.

Rhamnusia raised his tiny spring loaded crossbow and took aim at the warrior now that she was slowed. He fired.

A tiny claw-like appendage shot forth trailing a small wire behind it. It attached itself to Gagaran.

Stockwell had absolute confidence in the insulative capabilities of his boots. He said a small prayer to his capacitors and pressed a button on his battery pack.

An electrical circuit had been made between Gagaran, the wire, his battery pack, the wire trailing off his back and unto the ground, and the thin puddle of aluminium chloride solution spilled on the ground.

Gagaran received a jolt of electricity that would've been lethal to anyone on Earth. But to Gagaran the superhuman, it only stunned her.

But that was more than enough.

She dropped to the ground in a spasm, forcing her mouth to stay closed at all costs. She desperately tried to move but her muscles simply didn't listen to her.

And after finally struggling with all her might, it looked like she might actually have been able to get up, but-

She sensed the deranged smile of the man standing directly over her. She had expect to be killed straight away, but instead-

The demon crouched down and sunk his dagger into the back of her knees, right in the joints of her armor. She immediately understood why he had done this as opposed to simply slitting her throat. His next words filled her with horror.

"HaHAHahaHAHAH! Hold your breath for as long as you can fraulein."

The only thing she could do was try her best not to be consumed by fear as she continued to hold her breath.

She sat lying there in the needle-like gas with blood spilling from the back of her knees. It was the worst pain she had ever been through. N

Her burning ears heard he demon's footsteps recede into the distance, and she reminded herself that even if she was probably going to die, at least Lakyus would be able to revive her later.

...

Vera shot down the crystal lance headed for Stockwell. She nodded to herself, that was the last bit of support she would be able to provide him for a while. She knew the assassin was coming for her.

A kunai materialised from the darkness. Vera prepared to dodge, but the kunai instead shot forth and collided with the rifle in her hands _She missed?_

Vera stood up in realization. _No, she's being cautious. She's wary of my rifle. She aims to take it out before dealing with me._

Vera remembered the trajectory of the thrown kunai and aimed into the darkness.

[Dark Crossing]

Tia narrowly avoided getting shot by teleporting to another nearby shadow. Vera clicked her tongue.

 _This is annoying, and I bet it's annoying for her as well. She's avoiding getting shot at all costs so she's being careful to stay hidden. But she needs to make a move eventually_.

[Shadow clone.]

The clone did not bother to dodge, it beelined directly into Vera's barrel. She pulled the trigger and it dissipated.

 _She's still just testing me out, but I can tell she's determined to take out the gun… Wait! I'll use this to my advantage. I'll have to force her out first though. I just need to do what Wesley and I always do: End this with a decisive strike strike before the enemy has a chance to get serious._

[Electro Sensory Pulse.]

It was only a first tier spell that radiated a small pulse of electricity from the magic caster. It did next to no damage, but it was useful for exposing people cloaked in stealth because the magic caster would be able to tell when it collided with something, similar to how the electric sense works in platypuses.

The wave of light pulsed out from Vera and distorted slightly when it made contact with Tia. Vera's eye briefly caught the assassin's washed out form.

 _There!_

Vera raised her rifle and shot. Tia had countermeasures to that level of detection magic, but had assumed that her opponent was specialized in ranged physical abilities so she had not bothered to prepare said countermeasures. She panicked slightly..

[Immovable Adamantite Shield!]

A large shield radiating multiple colors appeared in front of her. It narrowly deflected the bullet. _Shit, that was close._

Vera took a deep breath. _This is risky, but my opponent is an adamantite adventurer, this is probably my only shot at winning._ She pulled away from her scope.

Tia's eyes suddenly grew wide. _What!?_

Vera had tossed the rifle to her. Just a simple, underhand pass of the gun.

The image of her enemy casually forfeiting their weapon caught her utterly off guard. It was the thing she had been aiming for the entire time and her enemy was simply giving it to her. She didn't have time to analyze it. She dropped her shield and caught the rifle.

"What the-"

The moment she dropped the shield and caught the rifle, her eyes caught track of another item that had been tossed directly after the rifle. A small pouch with a burning fuse.

 **BANG.**

The small pouch exploded into a blinding light and sound. It destroyed her visual and vestibular senses. Tia stumbled forward. _This is bad...I-I can't see or hear, I can't balance._

The flash bang completely disabled her. _B-But That's okay, I managed to get the weapon, she can't kill me now. I win the moment I regain my senses._

She clutched the rifle in her hands as she fell forward. Suddenly, she realised her mistake. _Wait! She cast a spell earlier, doesn't that means she's also a-!_

[Skeletal Grip!]

Boney hands erupted from the ground and grabbed ahold of Tia's arms and legs, pinning her to the ground.

 _Shit! I was careless!_

Vera smirked. Her calling may have been sniping, but she was still more than competent when it came to casting magic.

She had earned a reputation in the cult of being an gifted magic caster with an affinity towards lightning. Her most impressive skill was being able to compound metamagic enhancements on her most powerful spells at the cost of wasting the majority of her mana. Her skills would easily qualify her for an orichalcum plate.

 _I could probably just kill her with my third tier spells right? She isn't kitted to absorb large amounts of damage, I-_. She stopped herself. _I can't underestimate her, she's and adamantite adventurer, this is my only chance to kill her so I need to be decisive_.

Though she did not understand science very well, she had forced herself to learn from Stockwell everything he knew about one of the four fundamental forces of nature: Electromagnetism. After much lecture, she was finally able to understand and internalize what lightning and electricity truly were on the scientific level. She had used her new found knowledge to craft a spell of her very own design.

Vera's hands began to glow, casting out the darkness that surrounded them. This was a lightning spell that worked like no other.

She laced her fingers together and outstretched her hands in front of her, right on top of left. With great effort, she slowly separated her glowing hands like the opening of a jaw, sparks jumped between her separating finger tips. Her spell began to forcibly rip the electrons from every atom in the environment below her left hand, cationizing the ground, the air, and the skin of the stumbling assassin in front of her. The electrons then moved to the are above her right hand, compelled by an overwhelming positive charge. In essence, it was actually an incredibly simple spell.

Her hands continued to separate, cationizing the ground and anionizning the air. The two masses of positive and negative charges continued to grow in strength with every electron ripped from the environment. She felt her mana rapidly draining as she forced these two opposing entities to stay apart. The light around them crescendoed into a brilliant radiance as the power of the electric field surpassed the dielectric strength of the air.

Pulsing fractals of chaotic electrical energy danced through the air overhead, like a thundering storm cloud getting ready to unleash Zeus's wrath upon the earth below.

Tia had just barely gained her senses back, just enough to raise her head to look back at the magic caster. Tia saw that she was sitting inside the gaping maw of an electric dragon. Her various daggers and metal armaments rattled in their sheaths in response to the powerful magnetic field being generated.

Tia tried to move but found that she was still pinned down by the skeletal hands. Due to the brilliant radiance of the spell, there was only one shadow being cast in the entire area. [Dark Crossing!]

She jumped into Vera's shadow and unsheathed her dagger. Tia celebrated inside, the caster's spell would've undoubtedly killed her but she had managed to escape.

Vera saw for a brief moment that her target had disappeared, but she wasn't worried. Tia's skin was still positively charged, there was no escaping this spell with short range teleportation once it had already been set into motion.

Vera insulated herself and snapped her hands closed.

[Over maximize magic - Ion Flux]

The ions smashed together with the sound of thunder.

Tia was reduced to ashes and bone, leaving behind the faint smell of ozone.

…

"Just...what the fuck is this stuff?"

Evileye continued to desperately flush her eyes of the capsaicin vapor.

"Watch your language fraulein."

She felt the demon's demented gaze as he approached her from the front.

"Shit! [Fly!]"

She rose up into the air and blinked several more times. She had been using healing magic on herself to help along the process of getting the capsaicin out of her eyes. She had focused the entirety of her efforts regain her vision, so she had neglected to heal the various blisters on her hands and face.

She was now just barely able to see Rhamnusia's grotesque visage through her burning field of vision.

The demon seemed disappointed.

"Oh, so you've already recovered your vision, that's a shame, though it is to be expected. Unlike the charges in those rockets that I threw together all willy nilly, the dose I prepared for Mr. Aamon all those months ago was a labor of love."

Evileye could tell that the demon was awash with nostalgia, an emotion that so poorly fit is persona that it made her want to vomit.

"I guess a common thing among magic casters is that no matter how powerful they are, none of them seem to like capsaicin being thrown into their face."

Evileye suddenly realised what Rhamnusia talking to her meant.

"Where's-"

"Your dear comrade? You might be able to save her if you hurry, though, I imagine she's just about out of breath by now though."

Rhamnusia cocked his head and cackled, pointing his bloody dagger towards the cloud of yellow gas behind him.

Evileye cursed internally. _I'm sorry musclehead, I promise I'll find Lakyus and find a way to get us out of this mess._

She refused to flee as long as she still had mana to fight with. She steadily rose into the air. She took a deep breath and bared her fangs. She would make her stand here for alsong as possible in hopes that reinforcements would arrive.

"I am Evileye. I am a woman of legend. No matter how powerful my enemy is, I must fight- what!?"

Rhamnusia was ignoring her declaration. His head was turned towards the shadows behind him.

"You know miss vampire, that woman may not be as strong as you in terms of overall magic power, but she atleast listens well and knows how to utalize her knowledge. I must addmit that I'm rather proud of her for making it so far in her studies."

"What are you-"

The metal studs on Evileye's clothing began to vibrate. She looked down to demon, he appeared to be in a calculating level of concentration. "Do you have a metailc taste in your mouth as well?"

"What the... what is the meaning of this?" Evileye swished her tongue around, the taste of metal in her mouth was overwhelming.

"It's because the concentration of - ah, and there's the St. Elmo's fire. What a tremendous amount of charge."

A faint blue glow appeared in the distance.

"That's where Tia-"

The shadows erupted into light. Evileye felt that a massive amount of mana had been used up all at once. She saw the brilliant form of chaotic electrical fractals spiraling in the distance.

 _What is that!? Fourth tier? Fifth tier!? I just can't tell from here, the spell is too unique._

And just as quickly as the light came, it left. The shadows returned and the spell completed with the resounding boom of thunder.

"Tia!"

Evileye cursed at herself internally once more.

 _Damn! We probably lost Tia as well._

She took another deep breath. She held out her hands, now that her allies were more or less out of the picture, there was nothing keeping her from going all out.

She was beginning to run low on mana after using all of those [translocation Damage] spells along with her other magic, but she had no choice.

[Sand Field!]

It was fifth tier spell of Evileye's own creation.

Sand particles dispersed throughout the surroundings. The particles clouded and thickened around the demon, and the ground beneath him began to shift and slide.

"Oh my my my my, well isn't this interesting."

Evileye smirked, but the fact that the demon was acting so calm made her worry.

Rhamnusia tossed his acetylene gas tank outside of the miniature sandstorm.

"You know, dear Evileye, I think I've figured out you're magic."

"W-What?"

"Do you know what sand is mostly made of?"

"What are you talking about!?"

"Scientifically, it's nothing more than silica."

"What are you getting at? You're trapped! I could kill you now at anytime I wanted!"

It was absolutely true. Stockwell was for the most part, completely immobilized and blinded, all he could really do was talk behind his gas mask, so that's what he continued to do."

"Just like your "crystal" spells, it turns into crystals like quartz and glass when exposed to high temperatures. And, lucky for me, acetylene just so happens to be the hottest burning gas-"

"Why am i even listening to you!? Just die-"

 ** _BOOM._**

It was a small but wickedly hot explosion. The acetylene gas explosion blew away the sandstorm. An explosion of that size normally wouldn't have been able to take out her powerful spell, but it somehow did. To Eveileye, it felt like rather than forcefully blowing it away, it had completely eliminated it's basic function and simply made her spell disappear, like she was no longer controlling sand.

When the fire cleared, Rhamnusia was standing surrounded by beads of glass.

"How did-"

"You should've killed me when you had the chance, though, It seems like I'm pretty good a holding a conversation. You people don't seem to realise that talking isn't a free action."

He shook the sand out of the barrel of his rifle and took aim at Evileye.

"I think it's time we end this little bout."

"Shit! [Translocation Damage]"

 ** _Bang. Bang. Bang._**

The shots weren't nearly as taxing as the ones the sniper had fired, but they were numerous, and stung whenever they bounced off her body.

[Ray of Negative Energy!]

Black energy shot from her hands.

[Summon Skeleton!]

A skeleton rose out of the ground in front of Stockwell. It was utterly unaffected by Evileye's spell, in fact, she most likely overhealed it.

"What!?"

Vera appeared behind Stockwell and he casually greeted her.

"Do I smell ozone?"

Vera smiled and giggled. Not only was his greeting humorous, but she was relieved to see that Stockwell was managing fairly well this time around as far his mental state was concerned.

Vera commanded her skeleton to charge the magic caster.

"Very well then! Open fire!"

Vera and Stockwell raised their firearms and let loose a rain of silver and steel.

Evileye was starting to run low on mana and couldn't afford to use [Translocation Damage] as liberally as she had been. But she was still wary of the massive sniper rounds trained on her head so she continued to nullify those, but was forced to allow the smaller ones through. That was mistake.

The silver rounds penetrated her body and lodged deep into her flesh. They sat there and sizzled away.

Evileye let out a paralyzed gasp of pain. _There's silver inside of me! This is bad, if I don't find an opportunity to get it out my HP will slowly whittle away._

She thought to herself. _I can't win now that both of them are here. I only have enough mana left now for about one or two more spells. What's my best option?_

She couldn't afford to hesitate, she made the best logical decision she could.

[Teleportation!]

She vanished and reappeared at the opening of the courtyard she started to run back into corridor of the compound. Her decision to retreat wasn't made out of fear, but rather of simple logic. She figured the best use of her strength would be to escape and regroup, now having learned valuable information about Rhamnusia.

Stockwell and Vera watched as she rounded the corner, digging the silver bullets out of her flesh. Vera turned to Stockwell.

"Should we chase her?"

Although she couldn't tell, Stockwell really had come close to mentally losing it for a second. He fingered his rifle but stopped himself. He took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

"No. I imagine she's just about out of mana after nullifying all of those rifle rounds. She won't get very far."

"Hai- Wait, what's that?"

"Hm?"

Stockwell followed Vera's gaze towards the sky of the open courtyard. The murky black clouds had gained a flickering crimson hue. Evidence of a massive fire.

"What the hell?"

Stockwell saw the tip of a ghastly flame rising high into the sky.

He turned to Vera.

"Let's get out of here and see what's going on."

...

Climb had been backed up into an alleyway. His group had been ambushed shortly after entering the Eight-Fingers hideout. And after only barely escaping with their lives, the men all of a sudden started to turn on eachother.

That was how he had ended up in this state, back against the wall with no one to call his ally. And what's more, a giant wall of ghostly flames had just appeared out of nowhere.

He shouted at his asaliants.

"How did you manage to sneak into Marquis Raeven's forces!?"

The men with varying armor and weapons approached him with twisted smiles. "Wouldn't you like to know."

They charged him all at once, weapons raised.

Climb steeled himself. Two people stepped into his attack range, one with a sword and one with a mace. He didn't have time to think.

He hacked down the one with the mace.

He saw the other's sword sail towards his neck. He watched it in slow motion and his life flashed before his eyes. It would lob of his head and there was nothing he could do about it.

The princess's image flashed in his mind. _...I don't want to die like this…._

Suddenly, the sword stopped inches away way from his neck, as if it collided with something hard.

"...What…?"

A seething presence emerged from Climb's shadow, an odd figure that appeared almost two dimensional.

The shadow demon's claws had intercepted the blade.

"What!?"

The shadow demon lashed out and the man's chest erupted into a shower of blood. It detached from Climbs shadow and sprang into the enemy mob.

It hacked down men one by one.

Climb stood dumbstruck, unable to interpret the scene in front of him.

The men screamed in panic.

"S-Shoot it!"

They revealed pistols and began to fire upon the level 30 monster. The monster reeled with every shot, each bullet eliciting form it a shower of thick orange blood that immediately dissipated into darkness once more.

It continued to hack down at least a dozen more men before it finally succumbed to the pistol fire. The strange, two dimensional entity fell to the ground and faded into nothingness.

"W-What the hell was that!?"

The surviving men looked around at each other.

"I-I don't know."

They turned back to see Climb still dumbstruck at the back of the alleyway.

"W-Whatever, let's just finish this so we can get paid."

"R-Right!"

The raised their weapons once more and approached Climb.

Suddenly the men in the back began to scream once more.

"What now!?"

The men at the front turned around to see dozens shadowy wolves cloaked in darkness. They pounced into the mob and began to mow them down.

"AhHhHhHHhHh!"

Climb stared in horror once again. Two shadowy entities had saved him back to back in the last minute. The wolves continued to mow down the men.

Two of them saw Climb in the back of the alleyway. They turned and charged him.

Climb gulped in his throat and raised his sword. The two wolves pounced at the same time and then-

-They stopped in mid air.

He suddenly heard the voice behind him.

"This is the one we're not supposed to kill, right?"

He turned to see a juvenile, silver-haired vampire wearing an evening gown.

"What the-"

Shalltear Bloodfallen suddenly grabbed Climbs face. She scrunched his cheeks and examined him closely. She nodded gleefully to herself.

"Yes! I got it right!"

"What are you talking about-"

Shalltear walked away from him, completely ignoring him. She seemed pleased by the fact that she had remembered not to kill him.

The shadowy wolves ran back to her and fused with her shadow.

The men had men been utterly massacred.

"Huh?"

Every single man had been killed, that is, all except for one. He was still crawling on the ground, still just barely alive. She suddenly looked strait down and yelled at her shadow.

"Hey! You missed one!"

She clicked her tongue.

"Fine, I'll finish him off- Huh? What's he doing?"

The man used all of his strength to lift a cylinder towards the sky. He pulled a string.

It suddenly rocketed upward.

The firework whizzed through the air and made a small explosion in the night sky. He was immediately killed by Shalltear short after.

"Oh no! I messed up again! Demiurge said to examine weird technologies so I let him live, but I accidentally ended up letting him send a signal!"

"Who are you-"

Climb began to approach her, but Shalltear had already disappeared without a trace.

…

Stockwell rounded the corner with Vera close behind. They exited the compound and stared in horror at the city skyline.

Ghostly flames rose high into the sky.

"That's the warehouse district."

They could tell from their vantage point that the flames had completely inscribed the warehouse district of the capital.

The turned when they noticed a faint trail of embers rocket into the air. Vera mouthed wordlessly.

"It's the distress signal."

They saw the firework rise high into the air and make a tiny red explosion in the murky black sky.

"What!? The larceny department has fallen!?"

Dozens more rose up from all around the city, seemingly simultaneously. The each exploded into a different color. Stockwell didn't like the fireworks display one bit.

"What!? Hector's group was defeated as well!? And Hilma too!?"

He was seething with both rage and panic.

"What's happening!? We should've obliterated the invaders with this plan! How are all of our strongholds falling simultaneously!?"

Stockwell's eye began to twitch.

"How are we losing!? We defeated the majority of Blue Rose so what's the problem!? I would've known if Renner hired another force! And even if she did, I would've know if there was a force nearby that could defeat the firearms-"

Stockwell suddenly stood stark still in realization.

"Wesley?"

"...Renner's secret masters."

"W-What?"

He let of an enraged yell and stopped the ground. He started marching back in the direction of their house.

"We need to change and figure out what's going on. Let's move, this place will probably get attacked any minute now."

* * *

 **I'm sorry if you liked Blue Rose.**

 **And before you guys call me an ignorant, self stroking, gun loving moron who knows nothing of the Overlord powerscale for having Evileye being damaged by firearms, I want you to keep an open mind, and please read this. (Note, if you're fine with how I've shaked things out, feel free to skip this, it's over 2000 words long)**

* * *

You see guys, I need a concrete system to determine how weapons that have no fantasy esque properties interact with fantasy esque beings, because without a system, it's all guess work n. So my system works under the pretense of these two statements.

1\. Physiology is a real, scientific force that affects all living and some non-living beings in the New World.

And 2. The New World has many similarities to YGGDRASIL, but is still it's own unique world with many of its own rules.

Statement 1 is inferred through the way that New Worlders talk about injuries, such as how bleeding out is a concern, people can break their limbs, etc… There's also things that Maruyama describes such as organs and brains being destroyed. So yes, unlike the Video Game YGGDRASIL, everyone in New World has a working and sophisticated physiology that affects them integrally.

Statement 2 is simply repeated time and time again by Ainz himself. I don't think anyone will try to argue that.

So what I've done to form a compromise between the two statements is place people on a graph that looks like this: Physiological Mechanics make way for Video Game Mechanics, as level increases. A level 1-10 human's physiology decides everything for them (identical to what we see on earth), and a level 100 human's physiology decides practically nothing.

A fight between level 1-10's is almost indistinguishable from what we'd expect on earth, and a fight between level 90-100's is almost indistinguishable from a video game (Take Shalltear vs. Ainz for example).

What this means simply is that at low levels such as 1-12, peoples bodies in terms of the amount of physiological damage they can take, should be considered almost identical to what we'd expect in real life. For example, a strong man running a sword through a level 10's chest chest should kill them, regardless of the sword wielders level.

So with that out of the way, there are two things that I consider when deciding how much something "harms" someone.

1\. How much flesh something is able to render/penetrate and or destroy by some other means (Fire/Acid/Magic). A quantifiable affect.

2\. How much of an affect said flesh's destruction had on someone. (This will tie into HP later) A qualitative affect.

For the first argument in determining the effect something has on one's body, let's take Gazef who is roughly level 30. Now for this experiment, lets say he stands bare chested and opened armed, and allows someone like Climb to stab strait through the heart as hard as he can. What would happen? (If you want to argue that Gazef Letting Climb stab him would somehow change what affect the blade has on his chest, then go ahead. But let me just tell you that that is basically saying that a bullet will penetrate you less as long as you don't consent to being shot.)

So Climb is roughly around level 15, and Gazef is around level 30, and as we know a 15 level difference is a huge difference in power. So I ask again, what would actually happen? Would Climb's sword simply cut a little bit into Gazef's chest and deal only a small amount of damage? I doubt anyone would truly think that's what would happen, even with a difference of 15 levels, if Climb through his entire weight behind sword tip on Gazef's bare chest. So would Climb be able to run him straight through then? I believe so. But what's that then? A level 15 killing a level 30 in one blow, preposterous! I hear you saying. Well, yes, that's just something that can happen in the New World.

So is a level 30 human's flesh actually identical to a level 1's? I think the answer is no, but it probably isn't that much stronger since level 30 can still be harmed by normal weapons.

Okay, but this isn't a very concrete system, how do we determine exactly how strong someone's flesh is based on their level?

Let's take Brain for example and his ability to just barely cut Shalltear's fingernail. If we're to truly believe that Brain did achieve such a feat, then what does this mean about the durability of Shalltear's fingernails? And furthermore, her flesh.

Firstly, I'm not a material scientist. I won't try to calculate the shear-stress strength of Shalltear's nails based off of the 23KJ impact of Brain's sword (I know he used [Four Fold Slah of light] against Shalltear, but it more or less doesnt matter for the sake of this argument because he hit in four separate locations) and cross reference it with materials we have on earth to determine the comparative hardness of Shalltear's flesh, I simply don't have enough experience to do it reliably.

However, what I can tell you with a fair degree of certainty is that the overall pressure imparted by Brain's sword across Shalltear's tiny fingernail which likely only measures around 7-8 millimeters, is only in the thousands to tens of thousands Megapascals. Granted, that's still a huge amount of pressure that only things like hollow charge/shaped charge weapon detonated at point blank could even hope to replicate (excluding WMD of course), but regardless, what it does mean is that Shalltear's fingernail is stilll within the parameters of "destructible", at least in a purely physical sense.

TL;DR. 23KJ of force applied on the area of Shalltear's fingernail caused it to break, ergo, even she isn't invincible.

She has a physical defense stat of 85. And as we know, stats and levels are on an exponential scale, of roughly 10 levels being an order of magnitude stronger (this is based off kind of what we've seen so far).

So if you've accepted all that I've established so far, thank you, but I ask that you continue to keep an open mind for what's next. Please remember that I'm trying to come up with a logical system for explaining things.

So, if Shalltear's defense stat was 85 (For this argument we'll be generous to Shalltear and say that her normal flesh is just as strong as her fingernail which would generally be much stronger.), would Brain's strike then be able to cut much further into someone with a defense stat of 75 (Someone like Aura)? That's what the evidence suggests. If we assume Shalltear's fingernail was at least 0.75 mm thick, then would Brain be able to cut 7.5mm into the flesh of someone with a defense stat 10 points less? I don't think that's entirely out of the realm of possibility. (Also this is how strong their flesh EFFECTIVELY is when taking damage, not it's actual consistency which we know of course is soft and feels like normal flesh. I.E. Shallchair/Albedo's breasts)

We know the difference in strength as levels go up is exponential, at lower and mid levels, this difference is anywhere to 5-15X for a jump in 10 levels. However this system could also be logarithmic for all we know, leveling out as levels near 100, or it could accelerate even further. We were never exposed to a wide range of level 60-90 characters fighting people 10 levels below them, so we can't establish a clear pattern with any level of certainty. And because things are usually told through the eyes of people so much weaker (or stronger) than the people fighting, we simply can't gauge power levels with any degree of mathematical precision. But I digress.

So then back to the previous question. What would happen if Brain used his strike against someone with a glass cannon esque build like the level 63 Narberal, who has a defense stat of 38? She's 37 levels behind shalltear, with her physical defense stat being 47 levels behind. According to what we know so far about the correlation between levels and strength, that would make her any where from 3.7 to 4.7 orders of magnitude behind her or (depending weather or not you think durability is more reliant on HP/Level or on Physical Def, regardless, it doesn't matter too much for the sake of the argument), or about 501 to 5110 times weaker than Shalltear, (These numbers can be higher or lower depending on the actually exponentially of levels and stats).

Regardless, Narberal is MUCH weaker than Shalltear. So I go back to the question. What would happen if Brain used his strike against the neck of an unprepared, unarmored Narberal? Can you honestly say it would do no damage against her? Strictly speaking, it should cut her head off because mathematically we'd expect to see a total peneration of a minimum of half a meter when accounting for an increased cross sectional area, but there are many out there who'd call me insane to even suggest that. But really what then would happen? Would it only go half-way? I honestly don't know. I want to know what you guys think. And really think about it rationally. I'm of the camp that says if it doesn't kill her, it would most definitely critically wound her. And this is because we know that more than levels and stats, the New World puts emphasis on tactics and realism. A blow that looks like it should have a noticeable effect on one's body probably will unless the level difference is 50+.

So then we loop back around into the Climb/Gazef scenario. I think that most people would agree that Climb's sword would be able to penetrate Gazef's flesh and reach his heart. That is, if climb threw his entire weight behind the tip of his sword on Gazef's bare chest.

If we can agree on that than we already agree halfway.

The next thing to consider is part 2 of my two part explanation, the qualitative affect harm has on something.

On Earth, this is "Easy" to determine, It's called biology. If your heart or brain are destroyed, you die pretty much instantly. If you lose too much blood, you die. If you're poisoned and a vital organ ceases to function, you die. And furthermore, getting exposed to too much light will damage your retnas and blind you, and you can be incapacitated by a blow to the head or rendered immobile if a tendon in your leg were to fail.

We see these things happen in the New World all of the time even though these things would've been impossible to replicate in the virtual world of YGGDRASIL, which did could not render the precise mechanics a person's biology down to the cellular level.

In short, I think it works more or less like a gradient, with video game mechanics becoming more and more apparent as levels get closer to 100, with 100 being where physiology is almost negligible and battles function like a videogame, (Shalltear being able to fight Ainz with her arm destroyed like nothing happened.)

I'm of the theory that this is because just like defense stats, as HP gets lower, the more 'Realistic/Earth like" things become. (This is the actual value of HP on not it's base stats mind you, since the actual HP value is also an exponential function.)

So then the question remains, if Gazef's heart is destroyed, will he die? I think yes. Level 30 I don't think is remotely close to the where physiology stops to matter. I think it might take a little longer than someone on earth, but he will still invariably die in the event of his heart being destroyed.

So then what about the strongest human in the new world, Zesshi Zetsumei? (I know she's half elf but I'll go ahead and assume that elf biologies are near identical enough for this argument)

What would happen if her heart was destroyed? How much would she be affected? Personally, I still think she would die pretty quickly, or if not, she would most definitely be rendered immobile the moment her muscles and organs stopped receiving oxygenated blood. Even here, at somewhere between level 70-90, I belive physiology plays an important role, at least in regards to vital organs. I think that if she were to receive multitude of puncture wounds she could carry on for much longer than a normal human could.

So finally, what this is all pointing to is the argument that yes, I think firearms would be an effective weapon against Evileye, and furthermore many of the New World inhabitants..

Firstly, Evileye is a vampire, and as such, she can get away with grievous wounds to her extremities no problem. She doesn't have to worry about blood loss. What she does have to worry about however is her heart or brain being destroyed. These are the referenced weak spots of vampires noted by Overlord and many other works of fiction, why this is the case, I have no fucking idea, all I can really think of if that these places hold some kind of magical importance that keeps the vampire functioning. Regardless, it's generally assumed that if either of these are destroyed or severed from the body, the vampire is killed.

Next, we move onto firearms and their penetrative abilities in regard to the level 50 magic caster. As discussed previously, a level 50 would have noticeably more resilient flesh, even without physical defense investment.

Now, this is where I have to point out hypocrisies and ask you guys think critically, and objectively.

Can Evileye's bare skin repel the unguarded blow of a sword? That is, do you think if someone managed to miraculously sneak up behind her and stab her in the back as hard as they could, would the very fact alone that she's level 50 allow her flesh to repel the blade? If you say yes, then I ask that you please re-read the earlier line of reasoning, understanding that she's a 12 year old glass cannon mage, and come to the conclusion that yeah, a dagger could indeed dig into her flesh, even if the wielder had only modest strength.

2\. So then if we establish that her flesh is not even remotely close to Shalltear's and can't simply repel a dagger on its own, we then need to decide what affect that dagger will have on her. I personally think it would do very little to her, she is a vampire after all. I imagine that as long as the dagger misses her heart, it'll simply draw a little blood she isn't using anyways and that would be the end of it. But that is only if it misses the heart.

3\. So what if does hit the heart. And this is where I imagine most of the disagreements occur. I think it very well may kill her, and if not, critically wound and incapacitate her. I already hear everyone saying, "Preposterous!" and "It would never happen!" but then I ask you to really think about it. Try to visualize the scene and think about what would realistically happen. Seriously. Evileye gets a dagger in the back that penetrates all the way to her heart (which if she has the body of a twelve year old girl is only a few centimeters beneath her skin), what then? Does she just simply turn around and smack the guy away? With her heart cut open? I just don't see it happening. I feel that if anything manages to cut her heart open or destroy her brain, she will not be having a good day, regardless of it source.

4\. Then finally we move onto firearms. Specifically, Vera's high caliber rifle, and Stockwell's silver bullets. I've already written in an earlier chapter that Vera shoots a round powerful enough to make someone's skull explode (Davernoch). Scientifically, such a shot already has several times the penetrating power of any feasible dagger thrust, and depending on the amount of grain, a greater amount of total kinetic energy. So then I ask you, what would happen if such a round were to meet her bare skin(let's be honest guys, Evileye's armor is probably pretty poor, it's just a cloak)? You'd be mad to suggest that it would simply "bounce off" if you already accepted that a bladed weapon could penetrate her. You guys need to consider that something like a .338 lapua with 250 grain can reliably stop a bear in its tracks and can readily penetrate 10 millimeters of steel. No, a round like that would go clean through a normal person(and 2 more behind them), but for Evileye, it would probably penetrate her a few centimeters, and if it hit her head, it would shatter her cranium if not penetrate even further, destroying her brain, and then, inevitably kill her. And that's why I believe she could be damaged by Vera's rifle rounds.

As for Stockwell's lever action, his rounds would've been much weaker, but could still threaten her in a different way. Evileye isn't a high enough level to be immune from the effects of enchanted silver. And even though the rounds don't have nearly the same amount of kinetic energy, they would still have more penetrating power than most daggers and could still lodge firmly into her body, where they would then go on to damage her through the effects of enchanted silver.

So a huge TL;DR.

1\. Anyone up to level 60 who doesn't have any investment into defense and doesn't wear armor can be damaged when receiving unblocked sword blows or dagger thrusts to their bare skin.

2\. A bullet surpasses both daggers and swords in penetrative ability, and is in many cases greater in kinetic energy.

3\. The reason why level 50's aren't concerned about low level people with swords and daggers is because they can kill them easily and effortlessly evade or block their attacks.

4\. Vera and Stockwell have quite a few tricks up their sleeves and can't be killed easily.

5\. Firearms can't be blocked or evaded easily due to their overwhelming speed.

So 6. Firearms are a threat.

And that is why I believe Evileye was able to be defeated. (At least for now?)

Also, the above mechanics are how I'm generally going to be basing my reasoning for other things, such as high explosives and what not later down the line.

Of course you are all entitled to your own opinion on how these things work, but I also ask that you at least acknowledge the reasoning and evidence I've provided before calling me harsh names. And that if you wish to refute my claims, I encourage you to do so, but i ask that you please do so with professionalism.

And as always, thank you for reading.


	12. Disturbed

**Okay okay, there's a fight about halfway through this chapter between Vera and [Insert name of Being from Nazarick] and I can already feel people angrily typing at me: "Sper unrealistic! She would've been utterly destroyed! Booooo!"**

 **I wrote the scene because I'm a huge nerd when it comes to that kind of stuff and I really just love sniper duels. Please just take it with a grain of salt.**

* * *

The meeting hall in the Royal Palace was packed full of men and women. They were all dressed in battle gear, but there was no unifying theme among them. Hanging from all of their necks were metal plates of varying hue and luster.

Only two of them were the iconic blackish-blue of adamantite, the Beautiful Princess Nabe, and the Dark Warrior Momon.

They had all been summoned in a hurry to address the powerful demon that had appeared out of nowhere: Jaldabaoth.

The adventurers were in heated discussion with the princess who stood at the front of the room.

A mythril plate stood up.

"What hope do we even have then!? Like you said, Blue Rose has already been obliterated by Jaldabaoth! And now the warrior captain just said that he won't participate either! So I'll ask you again, what hope do we even have!?"

The Princess took a deep breath. Though nobody in the room could tell, she was actually incredibly on edge. Things had not gone how she had expected. She accidently leaked a litte bit of coldness into her voice.

"We have Momon-san who was able to fight off Jaldabaoth. Weather or not we will win is out of the question, the question is, how many civilians are going to die before that happens. Our job will simply be to defend the people and let Momon-san handle everything."

The adventurers wanted to rebuttal, but the held their tongues. They had no chance against a demon that was able to slay the entirety of Blue Rose. Renner's plan was their best option to minimize casualties.

"Then I will be counting on you. May I now ask the various party leaders to step forward-"

The large doors to the meeting hall bursted open. All the adventurers turned to see the Grey Wolf marching down the aisle in a seething rage.

"What is the meaning of this!?"

A beautiful woman with an eyepatch ran after him, grabbing his arm and trying to hold him back.

"Wesley. Wesley! You're making a scene."

The adventurers gave the man accusatory glares. They whispered under their breath. "...Probably some rich kid mad about his warehouses being poached…"

Stockwell threw off Vera from his arm and continued marching down the aisle, beelining for the princess.

"What the hell is happening in this city!?"

Renner took another deep breath, she had way too many things on her mind at the moment, and the last thing she wanted to do was deal with an angry businessman. But, she had to maintain her pleasant facade.

"Wesley-san, we were just discussing that, so why don't you come with us as well?"

...

Several men and women sat in the little room: Princess Renner, Climb, Prince Zanack, Marquis Raeven, Mr. Wesley, Vera, Several orichalcum ranked adventurers, and finally, the dark Warrior Momon.

And of every single person in the room, only one of them seemed to be in any semblance of a good mood.

The Grey Wolf: He sat with a slightly insane look in his eyes, it was clear that he was enraged with something. The organization he had worked so hard to grow and defend had been completely obliterated in a single night, and along with it, many of his plans. He was glaring at Renner.

Vera: She sat next to him. Concern written on her face as she guessed as to what Stockwell might do next.

Prince Zanack: He sat with his shoulders slumped over. He had committed nearly all of his private forces to the operation and had just learned that every single one of them had been killed. Renner had informed him to keep quiet about it.

Marquis Raeven: He sat awkwardly in his seat, fidgeting with his hands and while his head hung low. He was too ashamed at himself to look anyone in the eyes.

Renner: She maintained her pleasant smile, but she was clenching her hands tightly underneath the table. She was not used to her plans going awry. Of the 174 man operation against the eight fingers, Climb was the sole survivor. She did not know for sure who it was that was responsible for annihilating the entire force along with Blue Rose, but there was only one demon she could think of, and it wasn't Jaldabaoth.

A messenger had come from from Nazarick to tell her that Demiurge was going to be making moves on the Eight-Fingers that night as well, but that if everything went smoothly, the two forces shouldn't have interfered with each other.

There was a small snag in her plans however-

-The entire force had been utterly annihilated before Nazarick was even ready to begin their own operation.

The only thing she had to be happy about was the fact that Climb had managed to survive. Though, the only information he was able to relay was that his group had been infiltrated by th Eight-Fingers and ambushed with magical weapons.

Climb: He was still in shock from the whole experience and had a dead look in his eyes. He had seen many of the people he thought to be allies either unceremoniously stabbed in the back, or turn on him. He had also been saved twice in a row by two very evil looking beings.

The Orichalcum adventurers: They were only nervous, but rightfully so. They would soon be engaged in an uphill battle with all of their hopes resting on the shoulders of a single man.

And finally, Momon: Well, frankly speaking, he was the only one who wasn't actually in too bad a mood. He had seen Demiurge attacking some random city guards earlier and stepped in to save them, but due to the situation he hadn't had time to speak with him. He was simply just a little anxious that he would accidentally mess up his subordinates carefully laid plans.

He thought behind his helmet.

 _Uhwah~ Why does everyone look so on edge? I guess Demiurge really did do a good job at scaring everybody. By the way, who's the guy with the grey hair, I feel like I've seen him before..._

Renner was the one speaking, she was still finishing up addressing the orichalcum adventurers about the battle specifics. "Then I trust there no questions as to where your posts will be?"

"No. Your highness."

They all nodded together in affirmative.

"In that case, go ahead and organize your parties."

The adventurers nodded once more and left the tiny room.

No one talked for several seconds. Stockwell thought to himself.

 _Wesley, just think calmly about this. What do I know so far?_

 _The distress signals started being deployed after flames appeared. So that mean that Jaldabaoth is the one responsible for destroying the bases then, right? If that's the case, did he simply decide to attack them on a whim? No, it was clear from the way the fireworks started launching all at once that the attack was premeditated._

He turned and looked at Renner. He recalled the conversation he had heard between her and the man called Demiurge.

" _I would like you to continue to keep my knight, my Climb, safe during the events that are about to transgress"_

 _Were these the events that she was talking about then? The dog was a part of the operation if I remember correctly, he was on the team assigned to attack one of the larceny department's headquarters. That means he managed to survive both my trap as well as what ever Jaldabaoth threw at them. I doubt he could survive that without help._

 _Yes. Okay, so that means that there is a connection between Renner and Jaldabaoth._

Stockwell scanned the room.

 _But something isn't adding up here. If their only goal was to simply crush the Eight-Fingers, then why are Renner and Jaldabaoth staging this massive invasion event? Why are they…_

Stockwell finally interrupted the painful silence in the room.

"Why is Jaldabaoth attacking the warehouse district?"

The reply came from Renner.

"We don't know, perhaps he is after some kind of item or perhaps it is simply by chance."

Stockwell glared at the princess. _An obvious lie._ He turned back to the room.

"Anybody else have any ideas?"

Renner spoke again, she was struggling to maintain her smile. "Look, we can tell you're upset about your warehouses being in Jaldabaoth's zone of control, but you need to calm down…"

Suddenly Momon spoke up. He turned to Stockwell. "Pardon me, but who are you again?"

"Hah? I'm Wesley, the Grey Wolf, I own half of the metal in this godforsaken kingdom for christ's sake! How do you not know-"

Vera grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back. She whispered to him. "Wesley. You're making another scene."

Momon's eyes lit up behind his helmet. _Ohhhhhh! That's why he seemed so familiar! He looks a little bit like Wesley A. Stockwell from Earth. Haha, he shares the same name too. I only skimmed the report, but I'm pretty sure that Sebas already cleared him._

Stockwell would never know how lucky he was that Suzuki Satoru had spent so much time in New World that he had begun to forget details in peoples faces.

Momon laughed lightly and waved his hand.

"Kukuku, forgive me, I just thought that looked familiar, think nothing of it, Wolf-san."

The dark warrior continued. "I do not know why Jaldabaoth appeared or why he is attacking the warehouse district specifically, it really may just be a coincidence. I simply encountered him by chance and drove him off-"

"-If you drove him off, why is he coming back-"

 _Snap._

Everyone looked over to Renner, she had snapped the pencil she had been playing with underneath the table. She smiled sweetly, but she was radiating pure hatred.

"Wesley-san, please shut up."

Stockwell began to stand up. He was beginning to lose it.

"Why you-!"

Vera grabbed him and pulled him back into his chair. "Wesley!"

Everyone was staring at him.

He suddenly got up and headed for the door. "I'm going to go cool off outside."

They others in the room nodded frantically as if saying: _Yes! Please do that!_

He opened and slammed the door behind him. Vera shkily got up and bowed to the room. "S-Sorry, he's just stressed is all."

She quickly made her way out the room as well.

Everyone quickly shook the daze out of their heads now that the disturbance was gone.

Climb quickly seized the chance to contribute to the conversation. "I-If I may, there's someone else that I think we should add to the plans, his name is Sebas…"

...

Stockwell leaned against the back of the wall and took a deep breath. He turned to Vera.

He forced his mind to calm down.

"Thank you, I'm fine now."

Vera gave him an unsure nod.

"Something is fishy about this whole situation, I want you to requip and go investigate Jaldabaoth."

"What about you?"

"I have to stay and keep and eye on Renner."

Vera nodded in understanding."

"What should I do if I find him?"

"Don't fight him of course, just see if you can find anything. Retreat the moment you feel you're in danger."

Vera nodded in understanding once more. Stockwell sighed to calm himself down once more, but it still contained traces of both urgency and anxiety.

"Then go, the adventurers and guards are already forming their lines and Jaldabaoth's second attack should be coming any minute now."

Vera nodded and left the palace as quickly as she could. As she left, she saw the countless city guards and adventurers running around to fortify the area.

She prayed that everything would go smoothly and headed back towards the house to requip herself.

…

Demiurge's orders to the Pleiades were simple: Spread out and watch the area. Capture any suspicious individuals if possible.

Shizu had equipped her 21st century sniper rifle, because even if it wasn't as powerful as her lazer rifles, it only produced a small amount of light when firing which made it much harder for her position to be exposed. For a mission that required caution and covertness such as this one, it was an ideal choice.

Her position was also an ideal one. She sat in the top of the bell tower overlooking one of the central squares of the business district. The major streets of the capital fanned out below her, granting her undisturbed vision down the cobbled roads for nearly two kilometers, and perfect coverage of the tiled rooftops sandwiched between them. Anyone wishing to gain access to the the heart of warehouse district while also wanting to avoid Jaldabaoth's demons would have to pass under her sights.

She leaned into her scope when she noticed something. She spoke to herself in a robotic, monotone fashion.

"...suspicious person…"

She saw the form of a cloaked woman cautiously maneuvering the abandoned streets below her. The target shaped pattern inscribed on Shizu's pupil rotated as she examined the form in her scope. She gazed at the rifle slung across the woman's back, and the gask mask sitting ablight upon her face.

"...Shadow Demon-san…"

A seething presence emerged from Shizu's shadow.

"...Inform Demiruge-sama...target identified...attempting capture…"

There was no response, but the presence began moving. It faded away into the dark shadow of the bell tower's room cast by the faint moonlight.

"...proceeding...cautiously…"

Shizu's scarf activated and shrouded her body in invisibility. Her pupil dilated as she traced the tiny form in the scope of her rifle.

"Distance: 865.214 meters...aiming for legs…"

She stabilized the rifle and brought her finger to the trigger. The gentle mechanical humming of her body fell silent.

She gently squeezed the trigger.

 _RUMBLE._

…

Vera maneuvered with great care through the abandoned city. She didn't want to attract more attention than she needed too. The fighting had started soon after she left the house, so she had to take a less conventional route to get to the warehouse district. So far she had managed to avoid most of the demons by taking this back route.

Suddenly she heard a tremendous sound and the ground rumbled beneath her, making her lose her balance. She fell to her hands and knees..

"I wonder what's causing all of these earthquakes…"

She started to pick herself up.

 _WHIZ._

"W-What?"

She blinked. A bullet had just narrowly missed her. Her eyes grew wide in realization.

860 meters away at the top of a bell tower, an automaton clicked her tongue mechanical tounge. "...Mare-sama made me miss…"

Vera sprung to her feet and dove behind the nearest building. Fear was plastered on her face behind the gasmask.

 _W-Where!? How!?_ She breathed frantically, trying to organize her thoughts. _That was definitely a rifle, not a musket! So how!? Only Wesley and I have rifles, how did this person get one!?_

She stared a few meters away at the small crater in the cobbled road left by Shiuz's bulet. _I couldn't hear the discharge. They must be far away and suppressed._

She looked at her surroundings. She was safe for now, but she couldn't stay hiding behind the building forever. She was completely boxed in by an alleyway, her only path of escape was the cobbled road with the bullet crater in it.

 _Think Vera, think._

After exiting the alleyway, she knew she would be immediately shot down before she would be able to make it to the the next building across the street.

 _I can't escape with [Fly] either, I would be a sitting duck. Think Vera! There's got to be a way out of this!_

She unslung the rifle from her back and loaded in a round. _I need to figure out where that sniper is._

She began to cast a spell.

...

Shizu's sights were trained on the corner that her target had disappeared behind. After seeing her enemy's rifle, she operated under the assumption that she was another sniper. That being the case, the safest option would be to keep her pinned down in the alleyway until allies from Nazarick could arrive.

She fired two more shots into the cobbled road, spraying stone fragments into the alleyway.

"...just stay there…"

After only a little while longer, she saw movement. A small sachel had been thrown into the road. It soon erupted into a cloud white smoke, obscuring the road.

"...Smokescreen…clever..."

Suddenly she saw movement once more. A dark form sprinted across the street at full speed. It was trying to use the smoke as cover.

"...You're cover won't hide you…"

[Clear Vision] Her pupil dilated. The smoke's opacity diminished in her mind, leavening only a silky white haze. She saw the Vera's gas mask and nodded motionlessly to herself, though, she didn't see the rifle which concerned her.

She focused, she would not miss a second time. She aimed for the legs and fired.

"...Hit…"

The cloaked form stumbled and crashed to the ground. The gas mask fell from its face and skidded across the road.

Shizu looked away from her scope and gave a sigh of relief, "...mission... complete…"

"...A duel with unknown enemy could've been bad…"

 _CLINK._

She felt something collide with her gun. And although her face didn't show it, she was utterly surprised.

"...How…?"

 _CLANK. BANG. FIZZ_

Bullets were ricocheting around the room of the bell tower. Shizu quickly shook the surprise out of her head retreated behind cover.

She waited until the ricocheting subsided before examining the scope of her rifle.

She took the scope off and examined it closely. A bullet had smashed its way through the first two lenses and firmly lodged itself inside.

"...How did…?"

That scope was a high class item from YGGDRASIL, clearly demonstrating the power of her enemy's weapon. Shizu dug the bullet out and examined the warped piece of metal.

"... .300 caliber maybe?...no… .3021...non-standard make?...hard to tell...11.799 grams…"

She removed her eyepatch, revealing a glowing red eye.

"...taking two or three of those would be bad…"

She switched her rifle to her left hand. Her now uncovered eye distended from her head with a mechanical whirring noise.

"...She determined my position based on the trajectory of four shots...and her accuracy is superb...she has talent..."

And although she was on a serious mission, she let herself smile a little.

...

Vera panted madly.

 _So they were in the bell tower after all!_

She leaned out her window of her new cover and fired one more round into the window of the bell tower for good measure.

 _Hopefully that will keep them down for a while. That was insane, the decoy was shot down in an instant._

She looked out at the cobbled road through the open door of the new building she found herself in. The downed skeleton wearing her cloak was slowly crumbling to ash. Her gas mask was lying on the road a few feet away from it.

 _I need to go back for my gas mask, It would be bad if someone got it. They might assume that Rhamnusia is involved with this whole mess._

She leaned back out against the window and calmed her breathing.

 _It disturbs me that I couldn't see them though, they were definitely there when I fired my first shot. The must be using invisibility magic._

Vera's brought her porcelain face to the scope of her rifle. Her exposed stygilight mail glinted in the moonlight coming through the window. She fired another shot into the window of the bell tower.

 _I'll keep pressure on them for a little while longer and escape as soon as I have the chance._

 _..._

 _CLANK. BANG. FIZZ_

Shizu's extended mechanical left eye whirred as it tracked the ricocheting bullet coming through the window.

"...Calculating possible trajectories…"

Her mechanical mind crushed numbers at inhuman speeds as she she began to trigometrically determine Vera's location.

"...origin of bullets located... target found."

She got out from behind her cover in the back of the room, still shrouded by invisibility. She crept up to the window and positioned herself at an angle.

"...Safe here...No possible ricochete can hit me here…attempting to disable target."

She fired at the metal rims of a cart park outside the building Vera was hiding in.

 _CLINK. WHIZ_ Vera was startled when she heard a clink next to her followed by a bullet whizzing past her leg.

 _What!?_

Shizu fired again.

 _CLINK. WHIZ._ The bullet narrowly missed her once more.

 _Are they seriously ricocheting shots with that kind of accuracy!?_

Vera fired another shot into the window of the bell tower. The bullet sailed past the invisible automaton, missing her by millimeters.

 _CLANK. BANG. FIZZ._ It ricocheted perfectly around her.

Shizu's mechanical eye whirred.

"...Adjusting...0.00017 degrees…"

 _CLINK. WHIZ. SHING._ The bullet glanced off of Vera's stygilight mail. She was horrified as she looked down at the mark it had made in the dark metal.

 _That was a glancing blow after a ricochet and it made a mark on the stygilight!? How powerful is their gun!?_

 _My position is completely compromised, and my shots aren't scaring them at all! I need to get out of here!_

She steeled herself for what she was about to do.

She took a deep breath vaulted out of the window. "[Lightning!]"

She aimed at the belltower. She knew that it probably wouldn't hit the enemy sniper, It was just to blind them for a second.

Vera didn't take the time to properly aim the bolt so she could fire off the spell quicker. She felt a very small tug on her fingers, the same tug she felt whenever her lightning near a large metal object. The lightning ended up going through the bell tower's window and getting absorbed into the massive metal bell.

"...Visual system overloaded…"

Shizu had her eyes opened in hard focus when Vera had cast her spell. She was blinded by the light, but it was only for a second.

The white quickly cleared from her eyes. She moved to get a better look out of the window now that Vera had moved.

"...Where did she go…?"

Vera had dived behind the cart that was parked right outside the building she was hiding in. Thankfully it was filled with sacks of flour so it provided decent cover in terms of her ability to hide.

She thought as to what her next move should be. Her eyes opened in revelation.

 _That's it! The bell!_

She found a small gap in the wood paneling of the cart and caressed the barrel of her rifle in it.

 _Focus, just do what they did. Imagine the ricochet._

The bell was too high to the ceiling of the bell tower to see from her vantage point.

 _Imagine the spin of the bullet, imagine it bouncing of the windowsill and upwards towards the ceiling._

She focused and the path of the bullet appeared in her mind. She exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger.

...

Shizu scanned the road below her.

Suddenly her eye tracked a bullet coming towards her.

"...calculating-"

 _CLANG._ _DONG._

Shizu reeled in response to deafening sound of the massive bell being rung just meters above her head. The intense vibrations of the air jostled the delicate gearwork in her head causing her extreme discomfort. It made her nauseous.

Her eyes tracked another bullet.

"...Target found-"

 _CLANG._ _DONK._

This time the bullet hit higher up on the bell, near where it was connected to the ceiling. It didn't resonate as well so Shizu was able to fight through the painful nausea. She confirmed Vera's location and took aim at the cart.

"...eye for an eye…"

She and Vera shot at the same time.

 _CLANG._ _DONG. ting ting ting tingtingtingting_

 _FWOOSH._

Shizu gripped her head and contemplated fleeing after the massive bell rang for a third time. This time the bullet ricocheted inside of it for several more bounces before stopping.

However, shizu had been able to get a shot off as well.

The cart of flour that Vera was hiding behind erupted into a cloud of white.

"Gah!"

The flour got into Vera's eye's, temporarily blinding her. She stumbled to the ground, desperately trying to flush the powder from her eyes.

The air in the bell tower quivered as the massive piece of metal vibrated.

Shizu steadied her pounding head and raised her rifle.

She saw that Vera was disabled and stumbling around on the ground.

Shizu knew that she had won this duel, and although it had given her quite the head ache, she smiled.

She had actually rather enjoyed herself. And while she could tell that her opponent wasn't as experienced as her, she had still been able to fight well enough to really test her skill as a sniper. Shizu felt fulfilled, like she had truly fought in earnest for the supreme one.

"...You did well…I would like to see you again.."

Aiming for the legs, she began to squeeze the trigger.

 _RUMBBLE_

The belltower shook with the artificial earthquake.

Vera was quite literally, saved by the bell.

The bell had had it's connection weakened by Vera's second shot, and the still vibrating bell jostled in the quake.

It came loose and smashed into the floor behind Shizu. It hurtled like a wrecking ball and crashed through every floor of the tower..

Shizu barely caught herself from falling and hung from one arm on the edge of the ruined floor. Her rifle plummeted to the ground level.

Vera flushed the flour from her eyes just enough so she could barely see. She sloppily picked up the cloak and gas mask and retreated into the night, praying that she wouldn't be shot in the back.

Shizu hung there for a long time. Her target had managed to escape, so she had nothing to smile about, but regardless she did.

It was an expression that people would have never thought possible to see on her robotic face.

She hung there laughing joyfully to herself in her own robotic fashion. Mare had lost a few points in her book.

...

The battle was turning grim. The orichalcum adventurers were being pushed back.

"Form up!"

At the command was filled with desperation. The guards manning the barricades shakily held up their spears in preparation for the next wave of hell hounds.

"We can win if we all just stand our-"

The guards and adventures starred in horror as a winged demon descend from the sky. They all knew who it was simply by the terror it exuded.

The adventurer who had just been screaming orders to hold their ground instantly changed his mind at Jaldabaoth's arrival.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

There was no order to the men's retreat. It was a rout in every sense of the word.

Demiurge laughed lightly behind his mask. He hadn't even done anything yet and the insects were already fleeing in terror. He calmed himself down, preparing himself for what was about to happen.

"Retreat! Retreat-"

The adventurer's crazed orders were interrupted once more. But not by a demon this time. A wall of black metal was standing to meet them.

Momon drew his mighty swords and lifted them towards the demon.

Everyone stopped at at his words, men and monsters alike.

"Here I come! De-mon!"

Jaldabaoth cackled.

"Foolish human! You may have one last time, but now-"

Momon jumped toward the demon faster than a bullet.

"-Impossible!"

Jaldabaoth raised his claws to defend.

The two of them sailed across the battlefield. They crashed into an abandoned building.

…

The door shattered as Ainz drove Jaldabaoth into it, scattering splinters everywhere. The interior was dark and cramped, unsuited for Ainz to swing his sword.

Ignoring Jaldabaoth, Ainz rose to his feet and walked off. Jaldabaoth got up as well and followed him. They entered another room, with a small table, two chairs, and Mare.

Mare pulled up a chair for Ainz to sit. Then, with Ainz's permission, Jaldabaoth removed his mask, revealing Demiurge's face.

"Firstly, is this room secure?" Ainz asked.

"There is no problem. The words spoken here are for our ears alone."

"Is that so... Well, then. First off, I have a favor to ask of you. Do not harm the guards I passed on the way here. While this place is fairly distant from E-Rantel, helping people in distress is good publicity."

"Understood".

Demiurge chuckled for a moment and Ainz raised a non-existent eyebrow at him.

"Forgive me, I was simply thinking at how weak the humans were. We had prepared additional forces just in case they were able to fight back, but it seems that their numbers are actually slightly less than our calculations. Will it be acceptable to transmit orders by telepathy?"

"Go ahead. In the meantime, tell me about your plan."

"Very well. This operation has five main objectives -"

"Ho... I only counted four. Five, you say?"

Demiurge smiled. It was a smile of smug satisfaction.

"I feel as though I have gotten the better of Ainz-sama for once."

Ainz magnanimously waved his hand. Of course, he did not even know what the first four were, but Demiurge's words still made him uneasy all over.

"You've always been one step ahead. I've got a long way to go."

"What are you saying, my liege? Truly, you are too humble."

"No, really— hn, forget it. Then, tell me about these objectives."

"Indeed. To begin with, the objective of attacking the warehouse district was to secure the wealth and goods within and transport them to Nazarick. To facilitate this, I had Shalltear open [Gate] in front of the warehouses, and let Pandora's Actor handle the matter of transportation."

This was a very profitable objective indeed. Ainz silently praised Demiurge from the bottom of his heart.

"The second is to cover up our involvement in our attacks on the hideouts of the Eight Fingers in the area. As you have no doubt surmised, a direct attack on the Eight Fingers' hideout would arouse suspicion. If we are unlucky, it might even lead to the exposure of Sebas and his contacts. As such, we expanded the area of operations in order to make others think our true aims lay elsewhere. I also planned this to occur on the same night as Princess Renner's raid so that no one would be able to point their finger at us with any considerable degree of certainty."

Demiurge paused as he thought of something.

"It seems that Renner's side of the operation ended in disaster, but, it doesn't harm us in the slightest so I digress.

The third objective was to investigate the rumors of Rhamnusia's ties to the organization as well."

The embers in Ainz's eyes brightened in response to the name.

"I will prepare a full report later on what we have learned, but I will tell you a little bit about what we've discovered so far."

Ainz waited in anticipation. He had explicitly warned every guardian to operate with absolute caution after he had read the reports about firearms that used actual gunpowder. Not only was he unsure how such weapons would interact with the denizens of Nazarick, he was also highly aware of the possibility that Rhamnusia could be from Earth or a fellow player. And if there was thing Ainz was unmatched at, it was caution.

"We learned that the the rumors of Rhamnusia having connections to the Eight-Fingers were more than deserving. We managed to capture two of the department heads and learned that Rhamnusia was actually secretly leading them for quite some time. Of the 11 locations we invaded, 7 of them were fortified with firearms."

Ainz panicked inside at the mention of firearms and shifted in his seat. Demiurge noticed this and interpreted it as concern.

"Do not worry. The only ones from Nazarick who were killed during the operation were low leveled summons, and other than that, Entoma and Solution only received negligible wounds, nothing at all to be concerned about. We managed to secure 78 muskets and 42 flintlock pistols, though, it seems the men carrying them had only been given enough gunpowder for one or two shots so we weren't able to secure very much."

A great weight lifted off of Ainz's boney shoulders. _Ah~ Thankfully it seems that real firearms are still weak compared to Nazarick, that's a relief._

Demiurge smiled after sensing his master's relief. He continued on to explain the last to objectives of their plan: To hopefully bait out and investigate Shalltear's brainwashers, and to build Jaldabaoth's infamy and Momon's fame.

Ainz smiled to himself after finally learning Demiurges plans.

"Then, shall we begin? Demiurge, I'll leave the battle damage to you. Also, you're able to move the flames of Gehenna, right? There isn't too many witness around here, so let's keep this duel mobile and move around a bit to build as much fame as possible."

"Assuredly. Mare, send the signal. It will be an earthquake, like the last time."

…

Stockwell, the royalty, and nobility alike roamed about the palace's greeting hall.

The floor was packed tight with the groaning bodies of adventurers and city guard. There was a non-stop flow of people coming through the door being carried on stretchers.

Priests had been summoned from the temples to help heal the injuries of men that were fighting on the frontlines, but the amount of help that they provided was negligible in the face of the overwhelming influx of wounded men.

Stockwell gazed at the seared claw marks embellishing the chests of the men packed on the floor. He then looked over to Princess Renner.

Anyone watching her would've called her a saint. Despite being a member of the royalty, she did not hesitate to tend to the men's bandages. She did her best to smile and greet every injured adventurer that came through the door. To the wounded men who had just been fight demons on the front lines, she was an angel.

Stockwell glared at her. _This two-faced whore! She's the one who probably planed this whole-_

He caught Climb glaring at him. Stockwell took a deep breath.

 _Just calm down. I need to stay calm and wait for Vera to come back._

Climb turned away and got back to tending to the men's bandages.

 _Just...just look on the bright side. Most of the arsenic and sodium nitrate left the capital for E-Pespel this morning, so thankfully I won't lose those._

But he suddenly felt a small ember of rage grow inside of him once more. _But I also had most of my company's assets stored in those warehouses! This will put me behind by at least a half a year if they're destroyed by that damn demon! I just want to-!_

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He suddenly turned to face the man who placed his hand there, his face still reflecting his internal rage. He exploded at him.

"What do you want!?"

Marquis Raeven reeled at the insane look in Stockwell's eyes. Stockwell realised that everyone in the room was looking at him and that he was scaring Raeven. He quickly calmed his tone and apologised.

"S-Sorry, Mr. Raeven, I... I'm just a little stressed at the moment."

Raeven nodded with empathy.

"I know, I can tell. Here."

He handed Stockwell a small cup of tea.

"T-Thankyou."

Raeven nodded. He sat down on the small steps that led up to the stage at the front of the room. He sighed. He then revealed a small thermos and poured himself another cup of tea.

Stockwell realised that Raeven's hair had become almost as grey as his own in only a short amount of time. He sat down next to him and took a sip of the tea.

It was delicious.

"Thank you, Mr. Raeven- Or do you prefer san?"

Stockwell suddenly realised how strange it was that everyone knew honorifics from many different languages when the only language he had ever actually heard people speak in the New World was English.

"Either or is fine, it doesn't make much of a difference to me."

They looked out upon the sea of groaning men. Raeven looked at them with tired eyes. He chuckled ruefully to himself and ran his fingers through his greying hair.

"I'm younger the 40 and I'm already starting to look like you."

Stockwell simply stayed quiet. Raeven sighed and continued.

"Men like us have to stick together."

Stockwell raised an eyebrow at him. "Men like us? I'm afraid we probably have less in common than you think."

"Are you sure? We're both suffering at the hands of a demon, we both know what the Golden Princess is really like behind closed doors, and now we both have blood on our hands."

"How did-" Stockwell stopped himself. _How did you know I have blood on my hands!?_

Raeven chuckled tieredly. "I saw the tally marks on your dagger when you handed it to Climb-kun on the night of the ball."

Stockwell began to shift, but Raeven put his hand up to stop him..

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

He rested his head on his hands and looked back out upon the greeting hall.

"We all have our reasons for killing. And as of this night, I'm probably responsible for the deaths of….no, as of this night, I've _killed_ probably more people than one could fit in this entire room."

Raeven took another sip of his tea.

"I guess...I guess I've been feeling rather empathetic recently. Or perhaps I just needed a friend to talk to."

Stockwell turned to Raeven. The noble was looking down at the ground like a man at loss for words.

Stockwell got the feeling from his eyes that he could break him at single misplace word.

"Do...do you have children, Wesley-san?"

Stockwell shook it head.

Raeven nodded sadly and continued.

"Well then, you see, Wesley-san, my son,my little Rii-tan, he was born out of a loveless marriage. The entire reason he was conceived was because I needed an heir to inherit my estate. But the moment..."

Raeven took a deep breath and continued.

"...The moment his little hand grasped my finger, something changed inside of me. I fell in love with him. I thought that if I could just be a good father and live in peace, we would all have a happy life. So I stopped aiming for the throne and committed myself to making this place a peaceful kingdom. I thought…"

Raeven paused.

"...I thought that I was becoming a better person because of Rii-tan. I thought I could become someone that he would be proud of."

Raeven continued to look at the ground with eyes awash in melancholy.

"Wesley-san, even...even if her highness is a monster, on someone's request, I did something terrible to her...no...not just to her, but to everybody. I thought that the gods were forgive me if I was only doing it out of love but…"

He turned his gaze to meet Stockwell's

"...but does that still make me an evil person? Even if was just to save him, will Rii-tan... will my little boy still want to call me papa after he learns what I've done."

Stockwell pondered for a moment. After seeing the look in Raeven's eyes, he realised how easy it would be to utterly break the man. In fact, he became morbidly curious and played around with the idea in his head for a while. _I wonder what would happen if I simply said..._

He realised that Raeven was still looking at him and that he was taking too long. He shook the thoughts out of his head.

He gave him the warmest smile he was capable of.

"Of course that doesn't make you evil, you were put in an unfair situation so the laws of fairness and justice don't strictly apply here. The blame lies solely on whatever forced you into such an unfair situation to begin with."

Raeven nodded. And even if he only thought that Stockwell was just simply being polite to cheer him up, he desperately craved any kind of affirmation.

"T-Thankyou, Wesley-san."

Raeven slowly stood back up to his feet. After that, he did something that no noble should ever do, he bowed to a commoner. Though, Raeven hadn't thought of himself as anything as grand as a "Noble" for quite some time.

"I'm sorry for spilling all of my thoughts onto you. I'll get out of your hair now."

Stockwell simply nodded and watched him leave. _Huh, what a funny guy._

He took another sip of his tea, and for a brief second, he had forgot about his many troubles.

That second was immediately killed when Vera came barging through the door. He was able to catch the blackish glint of stygilight plate mail peeking out from underneath her brown cloak. It told him that she had changed and come back as quickly as possible.

Stockwell stood up and watched her skillfully dodge the bodies and stretchers as she hurriedly made her way to him. He saw the urgency written on her face and felt the seeds of panic growing in him once more.

He gestured that they should both go and discuss things in the corner.

Stockwell prepared himself as Vera reached him.

She talked in a whisper.

"Wesley, I don't know how, but someone else out there had a rifle."

"What!?"

He had yelled in his surprise. Everyone turned to look at him once more and he quickly dropped back down to a whisper.

"What to you mean by someone had a rifle? Are you sure it wasn't a musket that we handed out that someone managed to get a hold of."

"It was without a doubt a rifle, they were able to shoot at me from almost a kilometer away. And they didn't just find a rifle lying around either, they've had to have years of practice. They were good, too god."

"What!?"

Vera shuddered and pulled up the cloak to show her leg to Stockwell. He examined the mark on the black plate guarding her shin.

"This mark was left by a glancing blow after the bullet had already ricocheted off of the rims of a cart."

Stockwell's eyes grew wide. He forced his voice to stay down.

"That's insane! Even the most powerful sniper rifles from where I came from wouldn't be able to mark stygilight from a kilometer away after a ricochete! They must have been using magic somehow, the must have been…"

Stockwell stopped when he realized he was still missing the most important part about Vera's information. There were only two ways someone in this world would've been able to get their hands on a high powered sniper rifle.

One, they managed to get a hold of one of the muskets, which of course had only been in circulation around the eight-fingers for only a day or so, and briefly in a couple of villages for about a week. Then, after finally managing that, they were able to figure out how to make jacketed rounds and primers completely from scratch. And finally after all of that, were able to figure out the theory of rifling as well as the intricate reload mechanisms of the gun itself, and do all of that without a clear model to work off of.

Even with magic, doing all of that in the matter of a week was simply too impossible. That being the case, the only other option was that...

Vera looked at him with concern. "Wesley."

"...They must have been from Earth."

"Earth?"

Stockwell let off a soft, slightly insane laughter.

"Haha...Of course, _I_ was brought into this world, so what's to say that other Earthlings aren't here as well."

He started to finger the dagger underneath his coat and he began to amble away from the corner. His eyes began to loose focus.

"Where were they hiding? How...who...where? Just what else do they have?"

Vera started to approach him. She started to recognize the familiar signs.

"Wesley-"

"-But if they they think that they can out tech Wesley Asimov Stockwell, then-!"

Just then, a wall of ghostly flames passed through the building. The ethereal flames simply passed through the front wall and continued forward and passed through them like a ghost. It was clear that Jaldabaoth had extended his perimeter to the royal palace.

An adventurer came barging through the doors an never would anybody have thought that someone could scream so loudly.

"I'ts Jaldabaoth! He's here! And he's fighting with Momon-sama!"

"What!?"

Panic filled the room and the able bodied rusheed outside to see. Stockwell, Vera, Marquis Raeven, Climb, Renner, everyone who could move rushed through the doors and out of the palace.

The area just outside the palace had transformed into a hellscape. Gazef and the royal guard had hastily reformed their lines now that demons had begun to assault them from every direction. Guards and adventurers were being slaughtered by the second by flying demons and devourers.

For the humans, it was like they were trying to stop a hurricane of death and fire with a hastily formed line of spears. But even so…

At the eye of this storm, In the middle of the sea of demons, Momon was fighting a duel of mythical proportions with Jaldabaoth.

The after-images of countless swords, parried and countered by the extended claws of Jaldabaoth. Swords, that if made of adamantite or anything of comparable density must have weighed well over a hundred kilograms. And yet, he swung each of them around like a pair of toothpicks fast enough to leave after images.

The small party of people who had rushed out to see the spectacle stared in awe behind Gazef's lines.

For a moment, Vera forgot about the man next to her and whispered underneath her breath.

"...Incredible."

And as far as the man next to her went, well...his emotions were difficult to discern to say the least.

Stockwell's maddening wayward eyes scanned the battlefield and those around him.

"...Where...Where is my enemy...?"

He began to meander towards the desperately crumbling fortifications. His fingers were madly playing with the dagger beneath his coat.

"...where...who is my enemy?"

His field of vision turned red with and green with confusion. The heads of the guards had turned 180 around their necks to turn and face him. They faces deformed and flowed down into the ground. The faces coelesed and the floor underneath him began to mock him.

"Where!? Who!?"

Vera noticed and turned. Her eyes flashed with worry.

"Wesley! Stop it! You're-"

Stockwell suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He had gotten just close enough to Momon and Jaldabaoth's duel for his physicist class to kick in. It screamed bloody murder at him through his chaotic state of mind.

The numbers cycling through his head pertaining to the forces that were being exchanged between the two god-like beings told him one thing.

"...It's unfair."

He dropped to his knees and clutched his head in pain. The ground underneath him continued to mock him, laughing at his powerlessness.

"Its unfair, It's unfair its unfair it'sunfairit'sunfairit'sunfairit'sunfairit'sunfairit'sunfair."

Vera began to rush towards him.

Stockwell screamed out his entire soul.

His eyes clouded over and he sprung from his kneel. He charged towards the eye of the storm.

"Wesley!"

In that moment, the fog of insanity surrounding Stockwells mind had gathered so thick, that Vera's voice would never have been able to penetrate it even if she tried for a million years.

"AhHhHhHhHhHH!"

He shoved a guard out of his way and vaulted over the barricade. Marquis Raeven and many of the others turned their sight away from Momon for just a second to see the businessman charge into a sea of demons armed with nothing but a single dagger.

"Wesley-san?"

"...Mr. Wesley?"

"The Grey Wolf?"

The hellhounds and imps locked in melee with the guards turned their gazes at Stockwell's insane barbaric yawp. As if drawn in my the man's hysteria, they broke away from the guards and charged him in one mind.

The sea of red closed in on him as he continued to charge toward the eye of the storm with single minded intensity.

"Shit! [Fly!] [lightning!]"

Vera flew towards the barricades and outstretched her hands Bolts of light extended from her fingers.

The lighting shot out from over the barricade and cleared the demons closing in on Stockwell.

Completely oblivious, the madman continued to charge.

Ainz and Demiurge were still fiercely locked in their duel. They looked out of the corner of their eyes to see a madman sprinting towards them, dagger raised high in the air. Oddly enough, it wasn't exactly clear who his target was.

Ainz furrowed his non-existent brows. _What the hell? Is'nt that the Stockwell look-alike?_

He shook his head and made a wordless gesture to Demiurge, as if to say: _Make a scene, but don't kill him, It'll make for a better show if I manage to save him._

Momon and Jaldabaoth exchanged a fierce volley of blows and seperated. Jaldabaoth exposed his completely defenseless side to the madaman.

Stockwell was only a few meters away, he put every ounce of strength he had behind his dagger and pounced at the demon.

All eyes on the battlefield, demon and human alike, turned towards the madman. It was impossible not to be captivated by the scene of a powerless human with nothing but a dagger, recklessly charge a demon emperor.

"AhHHhHhHHHHHHHHhhH!"

Though no one really expected the man to accomplish anything, any small hopes they may have indeed had were snuffed out in an instant.

Without even looking away from Momon, Jaldabaoth stopped the dagger with the soft pad of his left pinky finger.

"Foolish human, you- what?"

A normal person would have at least shown some pause at their blade being stopped with just a finger, but the madman's mind had long since degraded past anyform of logical judgment.

"AhHHhhHhHHHhH!"

He immediately pulled away his dagger and thrusted again.

Jaldabaoth rolled his eyes. He caught stopped the dagger again, this time catching it between his thumb and middle finger.

The madman continued to struggle with the dagger, but it was locked in an iron grip. Demiurge gave the man another once over. His eyes narrowed. He sensed something from him. It was weak, but he sensed a tiny spark of evil amongst the raging typhoon of insanity. It called out to his demonic nature. It annoyed him that such a respectable spark was being clouded by insanity.

"Begone."

The daggers blade shattered between the Demiurge's fingers and he released a wave of killing intent.

Though there was physically nothing there, everyone watching could've sworn that Jaldabaoth was standing in the middle of a vortex of black swirling aura. Climb who was watching from a distance felt that it rivaled if not surpassed the strength of Sebas's. He collapsed. In fact, every single being on the battlefield, demon and human alike, collapsed to the ground. All of the low level demons surrounding them dropped dead to the ground. Vera dropped out of the sky and the guards manning the barricades began to double over and vomit, such was the demon's unrestrained power.

If the insanity around Stockwell's mind was a tornado turning clockwise, then the killing intent being emitted from the demon was a hurricane turning counterclockwise. The black vortex tore it's way straight into Stockwell's mind.

Demiurge stopped the storm and Stockwell looked up at him with eye's full of both awe and fear.

The demon leaned into Stockwell's ear and whispered. "You're welcome."

Jaldabaoth brought his right hand around and made and 'O' with his thumb and middle finger. He brought it to Stockell's forehead. He smirked.

"Begone insect."

Jaldaboath flicked Stockwell away.

The humans and demons alike recovered just enough in order to see the businessman sailing through the air.

A blur of black metal intercepted him.

Momon caressed him in his arms like a maiden.

"You're safe now, I'm-"

 _Gah! He's unconscious! Learn to hold back Demiurge!_

Stockwell's neck was sprained and he had a massive red welt on his forehead. He was muttering gibberish underneath his breath as he hung limply in Momon's arms.

He looked over to Demiurge who gave him a subtle gesture as if to say: _Hey, at least I did what you asked and didn't kill him._

They wordlessly nodded to each other and Jaldabaoth immediately charged the Dark warrior.

"You fool! By saving the human, you left yourself open to attack-"

[Magnetize!]

The sword that Momon had set down on the ground to tend to Stockwell suddenly rocketed toward Jaldabaoth.

 _Gah! More and more people keep showing up!_

The attack wasn't threatening, as Jaldabaoth had blocked sword strikes from Momon that were going ten times it's speed. What was interesting however was that even if it was only slightly, he felt a force pulling him towards the sword as well. He stopped his charge just simply out of surprise and caught the sword.

Vera landed at Momon's feet. Her voice was full of urgency.

"Momon-sama, give him to me."

"Uh- Sure."

Momon handed Stockwell's limp body to Vera.

"[Fly!]"

Vera began to rise back up into the air.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jaldabaoth tossed the sword that had just been launched at him around in the air and caught it at the hilt. He took aim at the retreating woman's back.

"I think you forgot something."

He hurtled it at her at unreal speeds.

"Not so fast, demon!"

The audience cheered when a blur of black metal intercepted the sword, saving the woman. They cheered hysterically at every small victory accomplished by the warrior against a demon that had shown them the meaning of fear.

Momon landed and spread his now completed set of greatswords.

"Let's finish this."

...

Vera made her way back behind the barricades and collapsed to the ground. Stockwell was heavy and she wasn't particularly good at using the [Fly] spell.

Raeven and Climb rushed to them.

Raeven got down to one knee and examined Stockwell who was still clutching the hilt of his broken dagger. He tried to chuckle lightly but it contained a hints of disturbed hysteria.

"I don't know if that was the bravest or the craziest thing I've ever seen, Wesley-san. You too, Miss Vera."

Vera tried to smile and nodded through ragged breath. It had been an exhausting day for her and she had effectively no mana left.

"Help me take him back to our house."

"H-Hai."

Raeven looked around the battlefield for one of his men, but he realised that he should be the one to actually physically help them.

He gestured to Vera and she helped to drag Stockwell onto his shoulders. They supported Stockwell in between them and continued toward their house, unconcerned about the possibility of being attacked by demons. It sounded like Momon was engaging in his final dialogue with Jaldabaoth behind them.

Climb watch them leave, wondering how in god's name the man had managed to survive Jaldabaoth's killing intent from point blank range.


	13. Intellectual Experience

"I'm sorry I couldn't have been of more help, Climb-kun. You guys were all out here fighting demons while I was bumming around at Gazef's."

Brain shoveled up a spade full of debris and dumped it into a steadily growing pile. Several men were doing the same thing within the ruins of the business district. Climb worked alongside him.

"N-No, please Brain-sama, I under-"

"-But I really did mess up…"

Brain chuckled ruefully.

"I thought that I would be ready next time I encountered a monster like Shalltear, but I just didn't expect to find one only minutes after finally getting back on my feet. I guess it was still just a little bit too much for me at that time. This world can be so cruel."

Climb nodded slowly.

"How is your sword coming along."

Brain's eyes lit up. He bowed to Climb.

"I must thank her highness again for paying for the repairs. That sword is my soul. I dropped by the blacksmith's before coming here, it's almost done being reforged."

Climb nodded and they both went back to silently working. Several minutes passed by until Climb remembered something.

"Do you know what the 'four fundamental forces of nature' are?"

"Huh?"

"It was something that Rhamnusia said after he caught my sword as well. He said that he was able to do it by exploiting 'his second favourite of the four fundamental forces of nature' and that it was 'simple science'. It might be something important, or it might give us a clue on how to defeat him."

Brain pouted in concentration.

"Hmmmmmm...nope, I've got nothing."

"I see…"

"But I do know someone who might be more knowledgeable in the subject."

"Who?"

Brain chuckled painfully and rubbed his arm, as if remembering old wounds.

"She's an old crone, but she packs quite the punch. She gave me her address last time we parted in case I ever wanted to drop by and spar with her again, hehe."

"Where does she live?"

"Well, the address she gave me was kind of vague, but she apparently likes to hang around down south. I'm sure I could find her if I just looked around a bit."

Brain planted his shovel down and wiped the sweat from his brow, he smiled.

"Brain-sama?"

"It's a long journey, but perhaps that's just what I need."

He chuckled.

"And besides, as much as appreciate her highness's kindness, the blacksmiths here in Re-Estize probably won't be able to do my katana any justice. Yes, a trip down south is probably exactly what I need."

...

Standing against the backdrop of Moot village, the alien looking fence appeared at first glance to be a somewhat ineffective barrier.

Most fences made of metal used either small latus patterns or tightly arrayed vertical pikes in order to prevent them from being scaled, but the fence constructed on the rims of the volcanic caldera of Moot Village looked like it was almost encouraging it.

Standing at the height of three meters, it was constructed of two dozen steel cables that ran across its length horizontally like the steps of a ladder. And with no added vertical or horizontal lines other than the steel posts which supported the cables, it looked rather easy to climb, but that was what made it dangerous.

Niven turned to Vera and they knelt down to examine the cables of the fence.

"This is the furthest spot from the alternator, go ahead and check the levels, Miss Vera."

"Right."

What she was about to do would be considered suicide if performed by anyone but her. She focused and gently outstretched her hands. She took a deep breath and gripped one of the cables with both of her hands.

[Flow Control]

A flood of electrons entered through her hands and ran through her body and into the ground. She focused and guided the flow through her body, steering it away from her vital organs and nervous system, and providing it an external path across her skin. It was a technique she had been trying to master, and even though she had a strong natural affinity was towards lightning, electrons in an alternating current had a habit of being rather unruly.

Faint fractal patterns started to burn into her skin, but she ignored the pain and kept going. She was paying close attention to the amount of oscillating current flowing through her.

 _Hmmm… That's still quite a lot, I didn't expect that such a simple thing as alternating the direction of the current would be so effective at overcoming resistance. I'm sensing that this level of oscillating current would definitely be lethal if given free reign through a body…_

She let go of the cable and started to heal her light burns. She then turned to Niven.

"The current here is more than adequate now, I doubt anyone will try to get into the village after touching the electric fence."

Niven nodded and they both started to head back to the village. She watched the back of the boy's head as they descended down the hillside.

 _What I probably shouldn't tell him is that this is probably a little bit more than just a deterrent... Anyone who grabs it probably won't be able to escape once the current contracts their hand muscles._

It had been several weeks since the demonic disturbance, and after returning to Moot, things had been relatively quiet.

Niven pulled out a small, leather bound notebook from his side pouch. Written entirely in English, it contained a multitude of plans concerning the development of Moot Village, and with nothing else to do, Vera and Niven had taken the liberty slowly turning it's contents into reality.

The setting sun just fell below the ridge of the caldera and Moot was washed with shadow.

The two of them suddenly stopped when they saw this and turned their gazes to the windows of the buildings below them. They were both waiting for something to happen.

Vera turned to Niven, "You remembered to set the timer right?"

He nodded, "Yeah, it should be synced to go off right after the sun falls behind the ridge."

There had been several test runs on earlier nights, but the two of them hadn't had very much luck so far.

They waited in silence for a few more minutes. And then finally -

All the windows of Moot Village simultaneously glowed with yellow light coming from within the buildings.

They both continued to watch and whispered under their breath, "...come on...work…"

The waited for a few more seconds and suddenly they heard the cheers of the villagers.

Niven and Vera jumped and smiled.

"Yes! They didn't blow out this time! Lets go check it out!"

They ran down to the village and the villagers were coming out of their houses, faces full of joy. They called out to the pair and congratulated them.

"Nice job you two! The lights didn't explode this time!"

They giggled and Vera turned to Niven.

"I'm going to go check on the generator to make sure everything is alright."

"Hai."

They nodded and went their separate ways.

Niven ran to the building that contained the laboratory. He flung the door open and smiled when he saw that room was glowing not by the light of a candle, but from a glass orb anchored into the ceiling.

He then turned to a small switch that had been fastened into the wall. He flipped it several times and squealed with joy when the light turned on and off again.

"This is so cool! This invention will change everything!"

He trotted up to the back room and knocked the shut door.

"Master! Master! We finally got the lightbulbs to work!"

There was no reply from the door, but that was to be expected. It had only been opened a scant few times in the last several weeks.

The silence had seemingly no effect on the gleefully smiling boy and he continued to talk with enthusiasm.

"And the alternator thing that worked super well too! Miss Vera said that we have more than adequate current on the fence around the entire perimeter of the village!"

He suddenly stopped, as if remembering something.

"Oh! Hold on for a second! I wanted a find a way to cheer you up so I went ahead and made the thing you wrote about in the notebook called 'soda.' So just hold on a second."

Niven hurried over to one end of the lab to the thing called the "Kipps Apparatus". A strange piece of glassware that consisted of the glass bulbs that formed what almost looked like an oddly shaped glass snowman with a tube sticking out of its side. The middle bulb contained chunks of a granular white substance known as calcium carbonate.

Niven poured in hydrochloric acid from the top and the clear liquid rushed in to mix with the calcium carbonate.

As the substances were mixing, he then hurried over to the other side of the lab to get a flask of a dark brown liquid that smelled very sweet. He had painstakingly gathered and mixed over 27 different ingredients and flavours over several days to create the liquid.

He brought it to the glass snowman and plunged the tube into the flask. Bubbles of carbon dioxide started to bubble through the liquid and slowly dissolve.

He waited for several more minutes before pulling the tube out.

He poured the now fizzy liquid into a large glass.

He walked over to the door once more.

"M-Master? I made the beverage."

A hoarse voice came from the other side of the door. It was the first time he had heard since coming back to Moot Village.

"Did you carbonate it?"

"Hai."

The door slowly creaked open. A pair of eyes peeked out from behind and looked at the glass of liquid in Niven's hands. The door immediately shut closed again.

"I remembered drawing a diagram of the container it was supposed to be served in."

"Y-Yeah I saw the drawing, a-and I went ahead and had Mr. Faber make the container as well, but…"

"But?"

"But polyethylene is valuable and super hard to make...we dehydrated all of our alcohol just to make the container...so shouldn't we save it for something super important-"

"-Just...Just put it in the bottle Niven. It's important."

"Hai…"

Niven walked back over to the other end of the laboratory and revealed an alien object, a plastic bottle.

He undid the plastic cap that had been specifically dyed red and poured the fizzy liquid inside. He then put the cap back on and walked back over to the door.

"It's in the bottle now."

The door opened once more and a hand quickly snatched the bottle in a blur of motion before the door closed once more.

...

Stockwell leaned up against the backside of the door and took a deep breath.

He was in terrible shape.

His skin was sickly pale and his cheeks were hollow. He had barely eaten anything in the last several weeks and his limbs were weak with atrophy. His hair had grown out, and it was almost grey in its entirety. He had maybe only a few hairs that were still brown.

He sat with his back to the door, surrounded by half-eaten trays of food and buckets full of excrement.

Jaldabaoth's words continued to echo in his mind.

 _"You're Welcome."_

The demon had truly one him a great service. In that moment, the demon had stripped away his insanity, but it that was only to prepare his mind for the demon's next gift. He had bestowed upon him an image of absolute power, an omnipotent evil, and an impassable obstacle.

The image of Jaldabaoth bringing his hand to his forehead vividly appeared in his mind. The two gently cocked fingers would flick off his head and grant him a certain death.

So why even try to escape? Why was he even alive? Was it because Jaldabaoth had shown him pity? Was it because Momon had somehow saved him?

He didn't know. All he knew was that he would never be able to defeat that demon no matter how hard he tried. Death had written his name in his notebook the moment Jaldabaoth flicked him away, he was now just living on borrowed time.

"It's just too unfair…"

Perhaps Jaldabaoth's goal was to simply make him suffer in his own powerlessness.

He held up the plastic bottle of dark liquid. It reminded him of home, a place where there was more plastic than fish in the oceans, and where the demons in stories were always defeated in the end.

He chuckled painfully, remembering what Niven had just said.

"Heh, valuable. Mom died making the damn things. Mom…"

Why was he alive again? Wasn't it to kill the demons who boasted their power? To punish those who fall victim to hubris? To kill those who think they're gods because because they were born with a little bit of power?

"No…I just wanted to feel powerful again…"

Yes, he hated that feeling of powerlessness, that feeling that someone else is dictating your life that you have no control over.

"But what's wrong with that!? What's wrong with wanting to regain control!? You laughed at me when brought me into this world! This unfair! Horrible! Terrible world! Why!? Did you just expect me to just accept it!? To roll over and die in your hands!?"

He began to sob.

"All I wanted was to finish my quest and finally go to rest."

Jaldabaoth's image appeared in his mind once more.

"How cruel of you... to reveal your hand like that for right when I was finally regaining some control…"

He slumped over.

"Was it hubris? Is that why? Was it wrong to try to fight gods with my lowly human body? A 74 kilogram bag of mostly water trying to fight the gods...Haha...I'm so stupid…just let me rest already…."

He looked up to the shelves around him, he was in the storage room after all. Hydrogen peroxide, arsenic trichloride, ammonia, hydrogen cyanide, potassium chlorate, sulfuric acid. Maybe he would finally be able to find peace at the bottom of one of those jars.

"It would be so easy…"

He realised that he was still holding the bottle that Niven had just given him. The boy's smile appeared in his mind.

A smile untainted by evil, one that reflected a boy whose only joy was learning about the world and proudly reciting his findings to his mother.

It was a smile he had lost at the hands of injustice long ago.

"I…"

He tore his eyes away from the shelves.

"I don't want to loose it again."

They were being hunted down by Renner's secret masters. People associated with that demon, people who've come from earth and brought a sniper rifle with them. Yes, should he die here, Niven would never be able to smile like that again. It would only be a matter of time until he was cornered and tortured of all his information.

"Yes, of course, that's the kind of world this is."

And it wasn't just Niven either. Vera, Mr. Faber, the villagers. They all appeared in his mind. They were pleading him to stay..

"But what am I supposed to do against that? And that demon can't be the only thing that god has up his sleeve for me."

 _Wesley._

He didn't know were his mother's voice ended and Vera's began.

 _You're so smart, I'm sure you're going to change the world one day._

Yes, she was right.

He leaned back and mimicked a news cast that he had heard.

"Wesley Asimov Stockwell, finder of the first stable ultra heavy element. Inventor and scientist who paved the way to modern unified field theory and lossless fusion reactors. The man who had allowed mankind to start taking leaps and bounds to the heavens. The man whose net worth is in the hundreds of billions, and whose mind is priceless."

For the first time in several weeks, he smiled.

He twirled the bottle a little and then gently loosened the cap. He listened to the hiss of the carbon dioxide escaping. The sound brought an inexplicable peace that made him chuckle.

"Hehe, Wesley Asimov Stockwell, also a pavlovian dog who's conditioned to the sound of CO2 escaping a bottle."

He brought the bottle to his lips and drank. He downed it one go.

A small burp escaped his body, and with it, any lingering hesitation.

"Fuck it. I'm more vindictive than cautious anyways."

He made a point of disgracefully throwing the bottle into the corner.

He opened the door and walked out into the lab.

"The first thing I did after buying PepsiCo was dig up their secret recipe for Dr. Pepper and commit it to memory. So either my encyclopedic memory is waning a bit after all of these years or you simply mixed the ingredients incorrectly my boy. It tasted like shit."

Niven jumped out of his chair in response to the voice. He smiled with glee when he saw his master standing in the doorway.

"Master!"

He ran towards him but stopped halfway. He pinched his nose, but he was still smiling.

"You should probably take a bath."

Stockwell laughed tiredly

"Yes...I've a mountain of things that could use a good cleansing. Also, get me some parchment and some pencils."

...

Vera lazily swung her legs back and forth as she sat atop a workbench in Mr. Faber's workshop. She often found herself bumming around the blacksmith's workshop over the last several weeks whenever she and Niven weren't working on something.

The blacksmith came over to her.

"If you're not doing anything at the moment lass, could you go ahead and coat this for me?"

"Hm?"

The blacksmith placed a bucket of clear-brown liquid on the bench along with a brush. He then placed in front of her some kind of large wooden item. She realised it was the stock of a firearm.

She gestured to the bucket.

"What is it?"

"It's varnish, it'll extend the life of the wood."

"Hai…"

Vera nodded and picked up the brush. She began to coat the wood as directed. The blacksmith gave her a nod and went back to his work.

 _I don't know much about smithing, but that has to be pretty amazing, right?_

She was watching how well Mr. Faber was boring out musket barrels. He was using a mechanical lathe in conjunction with his [Greater Shape Metal] to efficiently make the holes.

"Say, Mr. Faber."

The blacksmith responded without looking away from his work,

"What is it lass?"

"Why do you follow Wesley? I'm sure you know what these are capable of and what they're being used for."

The blacksmith continued his methodical work pace.

"I could ask the same question of you lass. Why do _you_ follow Mr. Stockwell?"

"I…"

Vera stopped her brushing for a second and thought.

"I guess I had my own personal reasons at first, I thought he was...well... I'm not so sure now…"

The pair continued to work in silence, listing only to the soft mechanical hum of the lathe.

"But I think now...now it's more like I just want to be there for him. I've seen first hand what he's been through and also what he's capable of. Or maybe I just simply have nowhere else to go or that I simply feel like he'll kill himself If I don't keep an eye on him."

She then let of a wry smile and shivered a little bit.

"I'm discovering new powers every day because of the knowledge and weapons he's shared with me. Maybe...maybe all it is is that I'm just secretly selfish and just want to see how powerful I can get."

The blacksmith nodded silently.

"An honest answer."

He completed the barrel he was working on and took it off the lathe. He examined it and blew out the metal fragments.

"As for me, It's much the same reason. I also want to see how powerful these weapons can get."

"Even if you know that your creations are killing people?"

The blacksmith chuckled and continued.

"Hehe, I've been making tools of killing long before Mr. Stockwell showed up. If I had a moral dilemma every time I made I sword, then just where would I be? No, weapons are just weapons lass, without them, people would still try to kill each other, only that they would then be using rocks, now how horrible would that be? At least this way there's a little more dignity and a little less suffering."

Vera nodded after contemplating the blacksmith's words for a while.

"I see…"

"And besides, much like you, I'm always interested to see what new fascinating project or tool that scientist will place in front of me. I must say, it is rather fun to test my limits as a smith. Hahaha!"

The blacksmith let of a hearty laugh and moved on to the next cylinder of metal that would eventually become a musket.

The continued to work in silence for a long time, meditating on the methodical sounds of varish being brushed across a wooden surface, or the soft hum of a mechanical lathe quietly spinning away.

She looked up when she noticed the door creak open. She nearly dropped the piece of wood when she saw who came walking in through the open doorway.

"Wesley!"

Stockwell gave her a nod and she rushed over to him.

"Wesley! Are you okay!? How are you feeling!?"

The blacksmith turned and smiled when he saw the man back on his feet.

Stockwell politely pushed her off of him and continued.

"I'm fine now, thank you for your concern."

He revealed several rolled up pieces of parchment.

"We can talk of pleasantries later, right now I'm in the mindset of getting right back down to business."

The blacksmith started walking over and gave him a confident nod.

"Vera, I think it's about time you really started getting serious about learning about electromagnetism."

"Hah!? Then are you telling me that-"

She was recalling all of the intense lecturing she had received about the subject regarding the true nature of electricity and electrons.

"Yes, you have only begun to scratch the surface. So far you know what electrons, charges, and ions are and how they act for the most part, and you also know about the relationship between current and magnetic fields and can manipulate them."

"How much more is there!?"

"Lot actually. So far you've been relying on your natural affinity towards lightning to sense and manipulate electrons and their corresponding magnetic fields which is all fine and dandy, but It's clear to me that you're still missing a lot of things that should theoretically be within your field of expertise. I imagine you would be a lot more precise and efficient with your control if you really started to internalize this…"

He handed her a piece of parchment and she unrolled it. She was horrified at what she saw. She couldn't even begin to guess at what the markings meant.

"What…"

Stockwell saw her face and chuckled.

"Are physics equations really that scary? Those are just the five simple ones too. They're the four Maxwell equations along with the Lorentz's force equation, it should be a good start for you."

Vera stared at the tiny piece of parchment. It wasn't just a matter of her not being able to read English, in fact, he had the feeling that even those who could read English wouldn't even be able to understand the five strings of alien characters.

"Don't worry, it really is simpler than it looks. I'm sure you'll understand what they mean after a good month of tutoring."

Vera simply gulped and nodded.

The scientist then turned to the blacksmith.

"As for you, Mr. Faber, I've got a couple of projects I'd like you to take a look at."

The blacksmith nodded and waited.

"The first one is pretty simple, you'll probably be done in half an hour with your skills."

He handed him the hilt of his broken dagger.

"The blade was completely shattered, I'd like it if you could replace it with a styglight one."

The blacksmith took the hilt and nodded.

"No problem at all, what's the second project?"

Stockwell flashed a fiendish smile.

"This project isn't for the faint of heart, It'll probably take several months and we'll likely fail many times."

Mr. Faber let off a hearty laugh and smiled.

"Those are the best kind of projects!"

"Then I wish you luck. Here are the plans to project dragonfly."

He handed him a large piece of parchment and he unrolled it. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he say the sketches. He then started to laugh lightly.

"Project dragonfly indeed."

...

 **On the night of the Demonic Disturbance**

Evileye weaved through the corridors of the compound, retracing her steps to the entrance. She suddenly saw dozens of ex-adventurers and mercenaries approach her from up ahead, she recognized them as Raeven's men.

She called out to them.

"Don't come this way! Rhamnusia is here!"

"We know."

She suddenly realized that they were holding muskets and pistols.

"What-"

 ** _Bang-B-B-B-Bang-Bang-B-Bang._**

The vampire fell backwards.

The men exchanged glances.

"I think we just killed an adamantite adventurer…"

One of the men approached the body and prodded it with the barrel of his musket. And after it didn't move, he knelt down to examine Evileye's corpse.

The other men approached him from behind.

"She _is_ dead right?"

"Yup."

Evileye's body was littered with bullet holes and her blood was drained out onto the floor. They took note of her juvinile face.

"I thought she was just a small person, but she's actually just young, she must've been no more than only twelve years old."

One of the men scrunched his face in confusion. "But hasn't she been an adventurer for a while? She's had to have been casting magic for quite some time, right…?"

His eyes started to grow wide and his voice became alarmed. The others were suddenly realising what was going on as well and they started to back off from the corpse. However, someone was still poking it.

"G-Gavin, get away from her."

Unfortunately for Gavin, his IQ tended to orbit at just around room temperature. He continued to kneel over the corpse and poke at it.

"What are you guys so worried about, she's dead."

"Y-Yes, we know, and she probably has been-"

"Whoa! Guys! Look at this! Haha! She got some crazy lookin' teeth."

Half of them started to run away, as if by instinct.

"For God's sake Gavin! She's a-!"

The vampire opened her blood-red eyes. She shot up and wrapped her arms around Gavin, sinking her teeth into his neck.

"AHhHHhHHHHhH!"

[Life Drain]

Gavin's screaming shriveled up along with his body as the vampire engorged herself on his blood. Her wounds began to mend.

"G-Get her while she's feeding! Aim for the head and the heart!"

The men drew their blades and charged her. She opened her jaws and Gavin's shriveled body dropped to the ground.

"Ahhhhhh!"

One of the men stepped in and thrusted his blade towards the vampire's heart.

[Animate Dead]

Gavin's corpse stood up to intercept the blade.

"What!?"

The tiny vampire used her size to dart around the zombie. She grabbed ahold of the man's leg.

"Get off of me!"

The man tried to kick her off, but she slithered up on him like a snake and planted her fangs into his neck. He screamed as she began to suck his blood.

Seeing this, the men dropped their swords and firearms and ran for their lives. Mana or no mana, they couldn't hope defeat the vampire without any kind of silver or enchanted weapons.

Evileye continued to suck the man's blood as she watched the men flee. She began to desperately try to hold herself back.

 _S-Stop it, you won't be able to stop yourself! B-But, it tastes so good..._

Evileye was incredibly disciplined when it came to her vampiric urges. She had adventured along side the thirteen heros and Blue Rose and countless other humans for over two hundred years, and never once had she broken her vow of abstinence. But she had been forced to do so in this situation…

 _Surely one more...or two would be alight..._

It had been ages since she had sunken her teeth into a nice, warm...juicy...delicious...body. She had nearly forgotten the utter euphoria that was drinking fresh blood. And she couldn't help but feel disappointed when she noticed all the delicious food running away from her.

She opened her jaws and the man's body fell to the ground.

And finally, after holding back her vampiric urges for so many years…

...Landfall cackled gleefully as her mind zeroed out into a blood frenzy. The vampire lord chased the fleeing men out into the burning city.

…

"-Wha?"

Evileye woke up to birdsong and a ceiling of leaves.

A streamer of sunlight filtered through the canopy and briefly made contact with her exposed face.

"-Youch!"

She hurriedly sat up and looked around at the trees surrounding her. She looked down to see that she was clutching the desiccated corpse of some poor sod whom she had probably snatched up on her way into the woods.

She put her hand to her forehead in pain.

"Oh no… did I-?

She realised what she had done and panicked. The last time she had entered a blood frenzy, she had accidently used her talent to destroy an entire city.

"Wait...no…"

Thankfully, her talent required mana to be made useful, and courtesy of Rhamnusia, she barely had any at the time.

The last thing she remembered cleary was being shot by a dozen or so of Raeven's men.

"...I can't believe I survived that. I should consider myself lucky that I wasn't shot in the head."

She focused and tried to recollect her memories. Hazy images of devouring humans and fleeing from demons appeared in her mind.

She shook her head and stood up. Her clothes were embellished with seared claw marks. She took off her adamantite plate and stored it in her pocket.

She turned to the desiccated corpse and said a small prayer as she politely reappropriated its cloak.

"I don't think I was out for long, I can't be too far away from the capital.

She pulled the hood over her head and started to make her way out of the woods.

"I need to figure out what happened. Hopefully Lakyus was able to get to musclehead and Tia- Uhawh!"

She tripped and fell over the cloak that was way too long for her twelve year old body.

...

In all honesty, she looked quite silly.

Evileye sat in the corner of the tavern with her short legs dangling from the chair. Her cloak was obviously too big for her so it had been rolled up from the bottom and the sleeves hung loosely and extended well past her hands. She also wore on her face what amounted to a piece of bark with two eye holes punched into it.

But, she had to make due with what she had. Without the makeshift mask, anyone who saw her mouth when she was talking or made eye contact with her would immediately be able to tell that she wasn't human.

However, how she looked was the least of her concerns. She had been learning disturbing information since the moment she had stepped foot back inside the capital city.

She clenched her fists as she continued to listen in on the heated conversation being held in between a customer and the bartender.

"That's right! Jaldabaoth laid waste to the entirety of Blue Rose! I heard he did it all in one strike each too!"

The customer made a fist and swung it into his other plam like the stroke of a hammer several times.

"Bam, Lakyus, bam, Gagaran, bam, Tina, bam, Tia, bam, Evileye. They didn't stand a chance."

Evileye sighed. _No ones even mentioned Rhamnusia yet, the only demon people are talking about is Jaldabaoth. Either her highness truly doesn't know about Rhamnusia or she simply said Jaldabaoth did it to help calm people down. It would causes a lot more panic if people knew that there were two powerful demons running around as opposed to one._

She tightly clenched the adamantite plate beneath her cloak. The logical conclusion she came to was that Jaldabaoth and Rhamnusia were working together. _Lakyus, Tina, Tia, Gagaran, I'm sorry. I promise I will avenge you._

She hopped down and approached the pair of men.

"Was there any news about a vampire attack last night as well?"

The men turned and flinched at her bark-mask. They looked like they wanted to laugh.

"Sorry little girl, but who are you?"

Evileye was not used to people looking down at her- well, physically yes, but not metaphorically. She wanted to snap back but controlled herself.

"Sorry, just- just please answer the question, it's important."

The bartender and customer exchanged a pair of glances and shrugged.

"Nope, sorry, can't say. Honestly, the ocean could've frozen over last night and we wouldn't have known about it. There was too much chaos and all of that."

"I see…thank you."

Evileye nodded and turned to leave. _That story agrees with my clouded memories. It seems like I started to get overwhelmed with helhounds since my mana was low. My path of destruction was probably pretty small and I opted to escape the capital._

She continued to walk in thought as she headed to the door. The men continued to converse behind her.

"Oh yeah! Did you hear about the Grey Wolf? I heard he…"

 _I can't go to her highness. Rhamnusia was ready for us, so It's likely that he's already infiltrated her intelligence network. I need to take matters into my own hands. For now, it's best that Evileye dies along with Blue Rose. This way, he won't be able to predict my return._

Inberun pushed the doors open and headed down the road.

 _I wonder if that old hag is still bumming around down south..._

* * *

 **I understand that the advantage of alternating current isn't that it is intrinsically better at overcoming resistance in wires, rather, that it's main advantage is that it's voltage can be manipulated much easier than direct current, thus effectively making it easier to deal with when transmitting it over large distances.**


	14. The Stockwellian Warmachine II

Demiurge's tail flicked as he completed his report. "I believe that is everything you need to know about regarding operation Gehenna and our future prospects."

The golden princess nodded thoughtfully as she sat politely in the little tea room. "Hmm, yes… Ah, so what did you do with Blue Rose then?"

"Ahh yes, of course." The demon adjusted his glasses, "We resurrected them and extracted all the information we could from their bodies, though, all we learned was a little bit about his personal weaponry and nothing more."

"That's unfortunate, might I know where they are now?"

"Certainly," Demiurge chuckled, "I was in need of some quality, female human stock. It would've been a waste to let them go free so they are currently participating in an experiment of mine. I'm afraid you will likely not be seeing them again."

"Is that so..." Her statement held only an obligatory amount of sorrow. She had already accepted as much.

Demiurge gave her a thin smile. "The vampire did escape however. I have people looking for her, but she has likely already made it out of the kingdom where our intelligence network is spread thin."

Renner nodded with indifference and Demiurge continued. "According to the rest of the information we gathered from the eight fingers, the leak about your raid came from Raeven. Do your sources agree?"

"Without a doubt."

The demon frowned. "Should be taken against him then? He could have information on Rhamnusia."

Renner shook her head. "After speaking with his wife, It was disclosed to me that their son had been stricken with illness. Rhamnusia likely exploited this and offered healing in exchange for information."

The girl chuckled, "I know the Raeven's loyalties and motivations inside and out, this was most likely a one time deal, he is still loyal to me. We will also still need him for later, so I believe It would be best to let him be for now."

Demiurge thought it over for a little while and simply nodded. "Very well then, we'll let the Marquis keep his peace for now."

Renner smiled in response and said nothing more, creating a lull in the conversation.

Demiurge began to cast a spell seeing that they had both finished everything they wanted to talk about. "I guess I shall leave it at that then. I will be seeing you again- "

Renner suddenly stood, "-Ahh, actually, could you hold on for a second, I just remembered something."

The demon paused his casting and cocked his head. "Hmm? What is it?"

"Oh, well, it's just mainly out of curiosity, but what did you do to Wesley-san that night. He hasn't shown up in the palace since."

Demiurge cocked his head. And after a second of searching, the name and face appeared in his mind. "Ohh yes, the madman with the dagger. We stole everything his company had in the warehouse district, so it is unlikely Wesley Steel Works will be growing anytime soon. And as for the man himself, I just gave him a good scare. Nothing more."

Renner politely covered her mouth and produced an inane giggle. "Will he be back?"

"Hmmm…" Demiurge mulled it over. "Possibly. I could discern from our short meeting that he's ambitious and no doubt vindictive to the point of insanity. If he does indeed end up coming back, I'd suggest taking action quickly. Though, I doubt you needed me to tell you that."

Renner smiled playfully. "Well, either way, he's already signed away his own fate. He'll be ruined before the rebellion even starts. See?"

She revealed a rolled up parchment from the shelf in her room and presented it to the demon. "Read the fine print."

Demiurge took it in his hands and scanned it over. "What's this? Agreement for Crop Rotations and -" Demiurge suddenly stopped and laughed lightly. "- That's quite devilish of you, using Ainz-sama's plan like that."

Renner giggled. "In any case, it'd be best to keep his business still somewhat alive. I have no doubt that he will prove himself a valuable asset when it eventually comes time to construct a competitive economy."

"After he has sworn loyality to Ainz-sama of course."

"Assuredly."

Demiurge nodded and handed the contract back to the princess. He turned to the gate that had appeared behind him and began to undo the warding on the room.

"And just one more thing before I leave, though this is just obligatory. After receiving information about Rhamnusia's personal weaponry, Ainz-sama issued an additional warning to everyone operating outside of Nazarick. We are to now operate with absolute caution, that is, we are not allow to engage in any hostilities whatsoever should we encounter him or the sniper. That is all."

Renner nodded in affirmative and bowed. Her shadow warped and motioned to do the same.

Demiurge said nothing more and soundlessly left the room.

Renner sat in silent thought for only a little while more.

She then corrected her face and turned to the door.

"Climb! Thank you for guarding the door! You can come in now!"

...

Niven squinted in the dim light of the bunker and made a mark in his journal, "We've gotten roughly 17000 liters of nitric acid from the sodium nitrate we've processed so far."

Stockwell looked at the massive steel drum blankly as he did some mental calculations. "How much sodium nitrate do we have left?"

The boy flipped a page in his journal. "Only a few tons left in Moot, but we still have 36 tons in one of the warehouses in E-Pespel."

Stockwell nodded slowly. "You did well to produce this much in only a matter of months." His voice was detached, still working through calculations in his mind.

"A-Ahh well, I didn't really do anything." Niven smiled boyishly and rubbed the back of his head. "It's really Miss Vera's skeletons that deserve the praise. We've got at least 30 of them working here in Moot now. I'm sure controlling all of them and keeping them alive at the same time is taking its toll on her."

Stockwell let off an amused grunt. "That's what I thought at first too, but apparently she isn't consciously controlling them, and that they're just carrying out the basic orders given to them. What's more, they don't crumble away after a certain length of time as long as she uses an actual body for the summoning."

Niven raised an eyebrow. "Where did she get all the bodies then?"

"They were victims of the demonic disturbance. No one claimed their bodies so Vera took them when we left the capital." Stockwell paused to make sure he got the story right. "Well, that's what she told me at least, I wasn't exactly conscious during the trip back to E-Pespel and Moot."

Niven appeared as though he wanted to ask another question, but he didn't press any further. Seeing this, Stockwell continued. "So how much sulfuric acid did we end up having to use for this?"

Niven flipped through his journal once more and stopped on a different page. "We were able to get pretty close to the 2:1 mol ratio of nitric to sulfuric acid, but the temperature started to get out of hand at one point so we had to back off a little. If I had to guess, we ended up using around 10,000 liters."

Stockwell nodded in understanding. "How much sulfuric acid do we have left then?"

Niven closed his journal and smiled. "Heehee, speaking frankly, we have effectively infinite!"

Stockwell raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Niven gigled once more. "I set up a system for making hydrogen and sulfur from the hydrogen sulfide coming out of the vents! This way we'll still have a source of sulfuric acid if we ever end up mining out all the natural sulfur here in Moot!"

"Ahhhhh, so that's what that contraption was that I saw across the lake. I had forgotten to ask you about it. I assume you're using some kind of electrochem-

"Electrochemical method!"

"-Hehe, yes electrochemical, as expected. Good thinking my boy."

Niven's joy was mitigated after having realised that his master had already figured out how he had done his chemical magic trick. But he wasnt done yet.

"But that's not all. I'm also simultaneously converting the hydrogen into ammonia by using nitrogen in the atmosphere in conjunction with the geothermal heat."

Stockwell's eyes grew wide. "Did you say you were making ammonia with hydrogen from the ground and nitrogen from the atmosphere!?"

"Mhmmm!"

Stockwell loosed his jaw in amazement. "That's… That's fantastic! And I assume you found the platinum-ruthenium meshing in the shed and are using it as a catalyst, yes?"

"Yep!"

"Then...then you've completely worked around us having to find an oil seep! This is great! This is…."

 _I can mass produce mustard gas and cyanide now._

"...This is incredibly good news. I'm beyond impressed Niven." Stockwell put his hand firmly on Niven's shoulders and gave him a playful throttle.

The boy smiled gleefully in response to his master's praise. Though, his smile was half disturbed, as he had sensed something sinister flash momentarily through Stockwell.

He chose to laugh it off.

"Then go ahead an siphon off a thousand or so liters of nitric and sulfuric acid and meet me on the east end of the lake. Oh, and we're going to need something basic as well, get large tub of sodium hydroxide. Take a few skeletons to help you."

"Hai."

"Oh, and remember to place another shipment of steel from E-Pesel sometime later today, I'm sure or dear friend Mr. Faber is running low."

"Hai."

And with a final glance, Stockwell ascended the stairs leaving Niven to work quietly in the underground bunker.

…

Niven approached the man with several skeletons in tow. Held on stretchers between their boney arms were steel drums filled with sloshing liquid.

In front of Stockwell were five great metal vats suspended above the water of the lake by a cacophony of rivets and struts. Behind him on the ground was another enclosed metal cylinder that reeked of ammonia. He motioned to Niven to partition the sulfuric and nitric acids on either side of him, where several tubes extended from the vats.

Tens of dozens of cotton bales bound in twine decorated the shore like a flock of fluffy white sheep huddling up to get a drink from the water. Niven approached Stockwell while the skeletons arranged the acids. "I see you found the ammonia."

Stockwell chuckled lightly. "Hehe, yes, I went and grabbed some from your contraption and replaced the sulfur dioxide before you got here." They both looked to the metal cylinder behind them. Ice crystals had already started to form along its sides. "Ammonia is definitely a better refrigerant when it comes to getting temperatures below 0C, so hopefully we can actually get some decent temperature control now."

"It's boiling point is -33, right?"

"Right you are my boy."

Niven smiled brightly then turned to the cotton bales along the shore. "Wow. That's a lot of cotton."

"And this is only a quarter of it, the rest of it is stored behind the lab. I ended up buying 17 platinums worth, all the trader had in stock." Stockwell chuckled underneath his breath. "It came all the way from a plantation in the Baharuth Empire. It was all hand picked by slaves; Dark Elves, or so I hear."

Stockwell chuckled once more prompting Niven looked up at him questioningly. "Master?"

He let out a final laugh and waved him off. "Think nothing of it my boy. I'm Just having a little laugh about something I heard in history class. Just an innocent little coincidence is all."

"Coincidence?"

"I'll tell you about it later, let's get down to business. We're about to get into some pretty delicate chemistry."

Niven straightened up. "Hai!"

Stockwell gave him a firm nod and continued. "You've dealt with black powder and acetylene so I'm sure that think you have a pretty good handle on what it's like to deal with explosives, you're no doubt confident, yes?"

Niven nodded proudly. "Of course!"

"Then lay that confidence to rest right now."

"W-what?"

Stockwell's expression had suddenly turned very grim. "Niven, you're unbelievably intelligent, and because of that, I can push you to make some pretty complex stuff. However, what we're going to be doing isn't very complex compared to some of the other things 've had you do, which is why I'm worried."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to get over confident about this and end up getting yourself killed."

Niven stepped closer and concern flashed through his eyes. "Of course not! I'm super careful when it comes to dangerous things!"

Stockwell maintained his grim expression. "I was a lot like you when I was younger, so I know how powerful curiosity is and how easy it is to lose yourself in trying to perfect something."

"What do you mean?"

Stockwell paused for a moment as he recalled his past on Earth."Well, actually, I guess that's a pretty long story, I'll try to tell you about Asimovium later."

He shook his head and continued. "Anyways, just be careful and lets go over the chemistry for now. What we're going to be doing her is nitrating the cellulose in the cotton to make nitrocellulose. I'm sure you can already start to piece together what that will chemical look like."

Niven looked up and started to recall the structure of cellulose. Stockwell pulled out his own journal out and turned to a bookmarked page, turning it towards Niven. "Here is a diagram of cellulose if you need a little reminder."

Niven nodded as he examined the multi-hexagonal figure splayed across the journal's page. Stockwell nodded and continued. "So, the main thing that we're going to be doing is mixing the cotton with equal parts sulfuric and nitric acid."

"What will that do?"

Stockwell gestured to the peripheries of the diagram. "You see these three hydroxyl groups hanging around the outside of each monomer? The hydrogens are hydrogen bonding across polymer chains, see?"

Niven nodded, "Mhmm."

"Yes, good, so hear me out then. The goal is to replace as much of those as possible with nitrate groups. The sulfuric acid works as a catalyst in the reaction with the nitric acid to produce the NO2+ nitronium ion. The nitronium will then go on to replace the hydrogen in the hydroxyl groups and bond to the freed oxygen to form the nitrate group." Stockwell flipped the page to another diagram.

"The ideal result would then be a monomer of trinitro cellulose, where all three hydroxyl groups are nitrated, though, in practice, many of the hydroxyl groups will inevitably remain, but I digress. So in total, the process can add up to 6 additional oxygen atoms in every monomer."

Niven's face began to change into something in between giddiness in terror. Stockwell saw this and smirked. "I see you're already realizing what that means. Yes Niven, nitrocellulose burns very well, explosively so."

Suddenly, Stockwell's expression became very grim once more. "And as you've no doubt surmised, the reaction between sulfuric and nitric acid with cellulose is highly exothermic. It is relatively safe when mixing small amounts, but in large vats like these, the temperature is no joke. And as you can already guess, high temperatures plus high explosives is not a recipe for a still intact person. Niven…" Stockwell clasped the boy's shoulders. "Even with some of the more dangerous stuff we've made, I've never really given you big lectures about safety because you're smarter than I am."

Nivens eyes began to grow wide. "Smarter than-"

"-But without many of the modern apparatuses from my world, this reaction needs to be treated with the highest degree of respect. Do you understand?"

Niven gulped in his throat. He looked to his master and then around at the skeletons and the vat. He pieced together the entire process within his mind and humbled himself. "Hai!"

"Excellent. Then I can't wait to get my hands on some smokeless powder." Stockwell nodded firmly. "Then I'm going to go ahead and discuss some things with Mr. Faber. Oh, and remember to really neutralize the acid still clinging to the cotton after it comes out of the vat and dry it out well. It'll make storing it much safer. We'll be doing the same thing with glycerol later to make dynamite."

Stockwell turned and began to walk towards Mr. Faber's workshop. "Oh, and one more thing. Once you have everything running smoothly here why do you go and help Vera with her studies. She can't seem to get the hang of electron orbitals no matter how much I drill it into her."

Niven smiled proudly and gave Stockwell a final wave. "Okay!"

…

The blacksmith was all smiles. "Ah! Mr. Stockwell! Just in time, I wanted to show you this."

Stockell closed the workshop door and approached the blacksmith who was happily sketching a diagram on a piece of parchment. "I was playing around with the 'side arm' idea you mentioned earlier. This is what I came up with."

"Oh?" Stockwell leaned over the blacksmith's shoulder and peered at the crude diagram shaped like an "L". He suddenly began to chuckle. "Are you trying to draw a 1911?"

Mr. Faber was taken aback. "A what-11?"

"Hehe, here, give me the paper."

The Blacksmith shuffled to the side and Stockwell took up the pencil he had been using. He flipped the paper over and began to sketch a diagram on the back that was of markedly higher quality. "Your drawing was rather vague but I could tell your side arm design used a slide, am I right?"

"A slide?"

Stockwell continued to scribble. "Mhm, you drew a sliding uhhh… cover if you will, that holds the firing pin and extractor. It slides and serves as the bolt, right?"

Mr. Faber nodded eagerly. "Y-Yeah. My thinking was that it could be convenient and help with recoil... and what not. I also came up with an idea to have a replaceable magazine within the handle."

"Yes, yes, I saw." Stockwell laughed a little uncomfortably, removing his hands from the paper so the blacksmith could get a better look. "This is more or less what you were going for right?"

Mr. Faber gasped and stared at the paper. "That's amazing! You completely saw through my vision and improved it ten fold!"

"Well, you have Mr. John Browning to thank for that, he's the one who really perfected this kind of pistol design. What you're looking at here is an m1911, well, one of mine specifically, I collected old war memorabilia back where I came from."

Stockwell's eyes suddenly seemed very distant. "Convergent evolution is truly fascinating and terrifying if you're already designing things from Earth… it's also still a complete mystery that this world's technology is so far behind given that you have access to magic…"

"Mr. Stockwell?"

"Hmm?" Stockwell turned to look back at the blacksmith. "Oh, don't mind me, just pondering the nature of this world while I still have my sanity."

"Excuse me?"

"Haha! Well, don't mind me." Stockwell let off a grand laugh, leaving the blacksmith in confusion. "The 1911 is a great pistol but it's not really what I'm in the market for at the moment. I'll go ahead and draw up some lugers for you. Oh, and since it looks like we'll be getting our hands on some quality gunpowder soon, I'll also go ahead and draw up some rifle designs later."

Stockwell suddenly stopped and smacked his forehead. "-Ah! I go completely sidetracked, I came in here to check the progress on the mortars and to see how project dragon was coming along."

Mr. Faber's eyes lit up. "Ah, yes, of course. Follow me."

They turned and disappeared into the depths of the increasingly modernizing workshop.

…

Vera sat uncomfortably in the little hovel she had more or less decided to call home. She clutched her head in annoyance. "I just don't get it Niven, how can the electrons be in all three places, but also only in the middle place!? I just don't get it!"

"It's simple. The valence electrons are shared in covalent bonds so the electrons can truly be around the hydrogens and the oxygen at anyone time. However, since the oxygen has a greater electronegativity, the electrons are more likely to hang around it longer. But you also have to know the exact shape of the electron orbitals to truly get the whole picture of how it all works together and flows. Oh, and don't forget the hydrogen bonding between multiple molecules."

Vera looked desperately at the water molecule scribbled out on the paper in front of her. Also sitting across from her on the table was a glass of water.

Niven scratched his chin. "I guess this would be difficult for you. You're used to thinking about electrons as a flow of charges rather than individual particles in a molecule. That must be why you're decent when it comes to electromagnetism but not chemistry."

Vera planted her face into the table with a frustrated sigh sighed. "Wesley said to be able to separate it into oxygen and hydrogen by the end of the week."

She lazily raised a finger [Static].

A small streak of white formed and struck the water glass. Unlike normal tiered spells revolving around lightning, Vera's spell manipulated electrons in the surrounding air to produce a current. Not only did it require much less mana than spells that make lightning-like phenomenon from scratch, it also struck at nearly a tenth of the speed of light. Though, it wasn't very powerful.

The glass of water fizzed a little before immediately cooling backed down. Niven crossed his arms and pondered. "See, you already know how to mess with the electrons bound up in molecules. It's just a matter now of doing that precisely. A water molecule already has 18 electrons so theoretically you shouldn't have to add any more to separate it into H2 and O2 as long as you can use magic to just move them around."

"But you don't understand Niven. I'm not actually messing with the electrons directly, I'm just using magic to create fake positive and negative charges that don't even really exist in order to trick the electrons to move. There's nothing precise about it, I really can't choose how or where the electrons are being ripped from. All it's really good for is making artificial magnetic fields, creating currents, and orchestrating wanton destruction. I mean yes, it's useful I'll admit, but I just don't see myself being able to separate things in the way you two are asking me to."

Niven pouted and crossed his arms once more, deep in thought. "You said you're ability was to use magic to create fake positive and negative charges, sort of like ghost charges, right?"

Vera nodded. "Right. It actually isn't that unique. Wesley and I discovered that all mages do something very similar when casting any kind of lightning spell. It's just a matter of knowing what you're doing on a scientific level which allows you to really focus on exactly what the feeling is."

She then immediately slammed her face back into the table. "But that's just it, you have to understand it. Electromagnetism is easy, THIS is not. Even the damn 'mathematics' Wesley has been showing me are starting to make more sense. It thought I knew what electrons were but I guess I'm wrong."

Niven continued to think. "It's still just all the same fundamental force, so it shouldn't be impossible. Maybe we should just start trying to figure out ways to use the methods you already know to achieve electrolysis in addition to also just trying to increase your base of knowledge."

Vera sighed as Niven enthusiastically began to flip through his journal. "Well, I don't have any target practice planned for a while, so I guess we can just dig in and hope for the best."

…

Mr. Faber turned the tapered metal cylinder in his hands. "The shell fits perfectly flush in the tube, but that's only because there's no rifling in it, you said that's okay, right?"

Stockwell took it from him and examined it more closely. It would've been a shape hard to describe to the denizens of the new world. Being roughly half a meter in length, it bulged out at one end like a strange metal blimp and tapered into an array of metal fins at the other. The cylindrical piece of metal also contained within it an enclosed, hollow chamber and an opening at the bulging end. "Indeed, the shell creates its own stabilization in flight by virtue of its fins. It would need to otherwise it would just tumble randomly and be much too inaccurate. I'm surprised you asked that considering how well you already aligned all of the fins."

Stockwell ran his fingers around the hole at the bulging end. "I also see you left the chamber for the payload open, excellent. We'll need to come up with some kind of impact fuse and exploder. Or, considering the kind of payload we're likely going to be using, we may find it easier just to forgo having it explode on impact at all. How many have you made so far?"

"Roughly 90…" the blacksmith suddenly caught himself, glancing to the upper right corner of his field of vision to leaf through his memories "-Ah...er… actually I guess it would be around 110 as of this morning. The steam press we have isn't quite strong enough to form the casing on it's own, so I have to help it along manually as well as form the taper. I can usually hammer out a few dozen every hour or so, but after that I've been relying on one of the lass' skeletons to weld the fins on. Here."

Mr. Faber revealed a pair of faceplates made of an opaque, black glass. Stockwell promptly put it on and began to follow the blacksmith around the corner. "Oh, so you're already using the arc welder then? I thought you said you were going to wait until we got ahold of proper insulation; that you didn't want to try your luck at getting electrocuted?"

"Of course not, that's why I'm using that undead."

"Ah, of course. Silly me."

Around the corner was a spindly frame of bones clutching the handle of what could only be described to the new worlders as a "star on a stick", though looking at said star directly for any countable length of time would undoubtedly inflict acute visual damage. The skeleton was unfazed however, operating the arc welder without a mask or even any real safety equipment, as it was unnecessary. It had no retinas of which the light of the arc could damage, no flesh of which the heat could sear, or nerves of which the electricity could seize.

The blacksmith let off a a disgruntled 'harumph' and crossed his arms. "The damn bag of bones might as well just be considered one of the machines around here. Its as dumb as rocks and can't think for itself, but the work that it does hasn't the hint of human error. But then again, that's about all it can do."

They looked on through their masks as the skeleton's bony hands moved slowly and unflinchingly along the base of a mortar shell, attaching to it just one of many fins. When it's work was completed and the slag scraped off, even the finest welder of the 21st century would not have been able to tell where the weld stopped and started.

"So I see you finally got over your stigma about using the undead." Stockwell said. "Though, it took me a long while to finally accept using magic of any kind so I digress."

"Well… What can I say, I've grown to trust the lass lately, necromancy really is just a tool I suppose. I think some of your… what did you call it again? Indusomething… it meant something similar to resourcefulness. It's rubbed off on me."

Stockwell caught on. "Ah, yes, industriousness. Yes, definitely. You're not doubt an industrious man, Mr. Faber. You'd've made a fine engineer with some proper schooling."

The blacksmith took the compliment graciously and the two of them stood watching the skeleton work in silence for a long time as it completed several more shells. Stockwell's mind drifted back into its own world and the blacksmith continued to ponder the shells.

He eventually broke the silence. "Say, something's been bothering me."

"Hmm?" The scientist raised an eyebrow.

"I can't seem to figure out how you'll manage to actually fire things the distances you've been claiming. I mean, I think I know intuitively what black powder is capable of after working with for so long, and it just seems to me like it doesn't have enough oomph. And not only that, you'd have to clean the tube out after each shot. It just doesn't seem like a very practical weapon to-" He stopped when he noticed the scientist's restrained laughter. "-what's so funny?"

Stockwell put his hands up apologetically. "Hehe, sorry, well first of all Mr. Faber, you're claim about black powder cannons and mortars not being practical, well, that's immediately disproven by hundreds of years of history. Though I can see how you might come to that conclusion after looking over this particular mortar design. No, you see, we're not going to be using black powder, but something with a quite a bit more, 'oomph' as you put it."

Mr. Faber's pupils dilated and his eyes grew wider with worry. "I doubt even you have something more potent than-"

 ** _KABOOOOOOOOM!_**

...

"Yes! Miss Vera! You're doing it! Keep at it!"

Bullets of sweat rushed from every pore allowable in her intense concentration. Vera forced her her shaking hands to be firm.

Sitting waist high across from her trembling figure was a harmless glass of water, the water within it however was slowly disappearing, and in its place, a mildly visible layer of gas was forming. Visible in the sense that one could detect it with their eyes, though, it's color was not immediately discernible, as it shifted in vortices of pale whites and silvery transparent sheens, to faint hints of violet and lavender.

"C'mon Miss Vera! Focus! Keep orienting the polar ends upwards and separating out the differences!"

The gases being formed by Vera's water seperation spell of course were hydrogen and oxygen, both of which under normal circumstances would no be visible.

"Recycle more energy Miss Vera! You don't want the hydrogen igniting and forming back into water-"

"- Be quiet for a second I know!"

What the two of them had discovered is that they could align the water molecules based on their polarity and discriminate between the oxygen and hydrogen atoms based on the small discrepancy in distance from the caster, and thus the relative force of the 'ghost charges' between them. The translucent layers of gas being formed were as a result of small portions of rouge electrons exciting and reforming electrically neutral atoms and gases within the electrically controlled area Vera was manipulating.

The technique got around the concept of the caster having to internalize the full orbital periods of every electron within a water molecule including the unpredictable hydrogen bonding, but it was still nonetheless taxing on the mind.

The water had all but disappeared and Vera released her hands. The layer of translucent gas dissipated in an instant and she crashed into the bosom of her seat. She wiped the sweat from her brow and stared pridefully at the empty glass.

"Yes...I did it…" She was mentally exhausted but her mana was still nearly full. "I just need some more practice."

Niven smiled devilishly. "Hehehe. Now lets see if you can do it with sulfur dioxide and then after that lets try something solid like sodium chloride. Oooh, and after that lets see if we can do silica! That should be a challenge!"

"Please...Niven, give me a break."

The boy laughed playfully. "Heehee, I know. Just joking around. But we should still totally-"

They were interrupted by a brief flash in the window, and then-

 ** _KABOOOOOOOOM!_**

The sound was loud. Immeasurably, painfully, loud. And after that, intense ringing. Like a triangle being played right behind the ears

"N-Niven! Niven what was that!? I can't hear!"

The walls cracked and the ground shook. Dust had dislodged from the rafters and was quivering in the vibrating air.

The two of them managed to collect themselves and fumbled outside. Standing out on the turf outside of the houses were dozens of others of villagers who were struggling as well, shock and awe were glued to their faces. Vera sensed that several of her skeletons had been destroyed.

"...what?"

On the far end of the lake, directly across from where the village was located, a massive white and brown plume was rising high into the sky. Metric tons of water, mud, and smoke had been flung up into the sky in what Vera and the villagers could only first comprehend must have been some kind of powerful spell.

 _What tier!? So much power! Is it 6th tier!? 7th!? Wait, no...it must have been..._

"-The nitrocellulose...how did...?" Niven stared in horror at the scene happening across the lake. And with the ringing dying from their ears, Vera snapped her head towards him.

"You know what that was!? What happened!?"

"I-It must have been the nitrocellulose all going off at once. But I don't know how that could've-"

A harsh voice pierced through the crowd and they turned towards its source. "- Where's Niven!? Niven where are you?"

"Master!"

"Wesley! We're over here!"

Stockwell rounded the corner, his face flushing with relief when he saw Niven. The crowd moved out of his way and he joined up with them. He put his hands on Niven's shoulders and slumped his head. "Thank god you're alright my boy."

"Y-Yeah." Niven replied with a nervous nod.

Stockwell then relinquished his grip and turned his attention across the lake. The plume of water had already begun to shrink back down. "The houses by the shore will probably get flooded by the wave, but other than that, everything should be fine. I'll talk to the chief in a minute to hopefully help calm everyone down."

The materials within the plume had separated and he turned his attention towards the smoke cloud drifting away. It was showing the faint remnants of a mushroom-like shape. "Christ…it was big enough for mushrooming to occur...how much do you think that was?"

Niven suddenly appeared very sheepish, realizing that he was probably in an obscene amount of trouble. "U-Umm, i don't know. Maybe 4 tonnes?"

Stockwell rubbed his ear and grimaced. "4 tonnes? You sure? I would've guessed around 7 or 8 from that kind of blast…"

Niven did some quick mental calculations. "Y-Yeah, production has been going on for about 8 hours, so... Yeah, that would've been about 20% of our total supply of cotton. So about 4 tonnes."

"Hmm… you don't say." Stockwell continued to give smoke cloud questioning glances. "Still seems a bit too much for 4 tonnes. You didn't do anything special did you?"

Niven shook his head.

"Hmmm, I don't know then…" Stockwell continued to stare off into the distance.

"M-Maybe we just got lucky with the reaction and got a super high amount of nitration." Niven timidly added. "And the explosion was really efficient in getting all of it to detonate within the vats and where the rest of it was drying nearby."

Stockwell allowed himself a small scoff. "Chemistry and the law of large numbers doesn't work like that, you know that Niven. When you're working with sextillions of molecules, random chance wont change the nitration rate by anymore than a billionth of a percent."

"B-but what if it was a skill? Or like a martial art? I've been getting really good at chemistry lately and I can even sort of start to do the hand thing when mixing reagents. Mabye there is some kind of chemist skill that increases luck?"

The scientist raised a concerned eyebrow in the boys direction. "What? You mean like a magical skill? And hand thing? Don't be ridiculous my boy, it's just chemistry."

He suddenly turned to Vera who had been listening quietly. "Losing 20% of our stock stings a bit but there's nothing we can do about it. Let's just do some damage control for now and we can investigate what caused this mess tomorrow morning."

"Hai!"

…

It was late afternoon of the next day by the time the Niven finally declared the explosion site completely safe to dozens of happy and exhausted villagers. After everyone cleared the area and Niven began to get right back to work on setting the nitrocellulose production line up again, Vera made her way to the laboratory. She was a little worried since Stockwell had not made an appearance the entire day.

The door was cracked open so she didn't bother knocking. "Wesley? I'm just here to-"

"-A-A-A-A-A- Stop right there!"

She halted half-way through the door in response to the alarmed voice.

Stockwell was hunched over several enclosed flasks filled to the brim with some kind of red liquid. He was wearing a gasmask. "Gas mask Vera. Gas mask. On the hook there next to you. I'm dealing with dangerous stuff here."

"Oh…" She quickly adorned the gas mask hanging on the wall next to the doorway. After making sure it was on securely, she entered the lab. "I just came to say that Niven finished up cleaning the blast site and started working on the explosives again."

Stockwell seemed mildly saddened, "Yes, yes. Good. Niven's a good kid." Vera could tell that his mind was in a very distant place.

"Wesley?"

"Oh, um… Yeah?"

Vera frowned behind her gas mask and looked about the lab. Stockwell had stationed several skeletal workers throughout the area and had them working monotonous tasks. Two things caught her eye, one was two skeletons working a set of bellows that seemingly served no purpose other than to cycle air over hot coals. The other was a skeleton mindlessly exchanging tubes to a large metal cylinder in the corner of the room. "You seem busy, what are you working on at the moment?"

Stockwell glance up from his work and briefly followed Vera's gaze before looking back down. "The two skeletons you see working the bellows are making sodium cyanide. They're pumping ammonia over hot coals and sodium to form sodium cyanide. I can convert that into hydrogen cyanide later. As for the skeleton in the corner, he's working a… chlorination chamber of sorts. He's cooking up some sulfur dichloride at the moment, which is what I'm working with right here." He took a step back to allow Vera to see the flasks of red liquid before quickly stepping back in and getting back to work. Something about him seemed rather lifeless.

 _What's gotten into him?_

Vera tried to keep the conversation going. "What's it all for?"

The scientist began to bubble some kind of gas through the red liquid. "Oh, well, we already have Lewisite and Chlorine in our chemical arsenal at the moment but having some more variety can't hurt. Right now I'm just testing viable ways to produce some chemicals that can be expanded upon later industrially. The cyanide can be chlorinated to make cyanogen chloride and what I'm working with here is a way to make sulfur mustards… ah, er, mustard gas as it's commonly called. I'm bubbling ethylene through sulfur dichloride and examining the efficiency."

Vera nodded slowly in feigned understanding. She looked back at the two skeletons at the bellows. "Didn't you say they were making some dangerous gas? Sodum Cinidye or something? Is it safe to just have it out in the open like this?"

Stockwell replied without looking up from his work. "Sodium Cyanide, and no, we're fine, one of the bellows is sucking up any and all gases in the area, just like a fume hood. I left the door cracked in the event a small amount manages to build up here which is why were also wearing gas masks. Oh and don't worry about that hurting the villagers either, if gas does escape it'll only be in small amounts at a time, perfectly harmless."

Vera nodded once more in feigned understanding. "Oh, okay."

"No, this stuff here is much more worrisome." Stockwell gestured to the flask of red liquid in his hand that had begun to change color as a result of the gas being introduced. "If this stuff gets on your skin you won't actually know until several hours later which makes it rather sinister. From what I understand the blisters that it causes last for weeks and burn hotter than brimstone. Though I can't vouch for that personally considering the last time this stuff was used was over 200 years ago."

"I see…" Vera simply nodded and the conversation went quiet.

For several minutes they sat there. Vera casually looked over the room, it seemed to change every time she entered.

The colorful jars adorning the shelves expanded and contracted as Niven and Stockwell used and updated their contents over the months. Across the room long workbench was glassware of all shapes and sizes, both old and new, discarded or broken over their brief lifetimes. So many new apparatuses have been added as well, large cylindrical tanks and coolers, furnaces and crucibles, massive steel drums and tubes for moving gases around, it seemed to her that they had all been installed in haste, with emphasis on function over form. And splayed across the front wall was the periodic table she had looked at so many times before, so profuse were the scribblings in two different languages on it that she doubted anyone could realistically interpret the original diagram underneath, though, she doubted Niven or Stockwell truly ever needed to look at it in the first place.

She breathed quietly in half-mused familiarity, "...so much can change in a year…"

"Indeed." Stockwell seemed to have finished his work with the mustard gas and had begun to assort some different materials.

His sudden reply caught Vera by surprise however. "Oh, you were listening."

Stockwell nodded slowly. "Yes…" Vera noticed that he seemed to zone out again. "You know Vera, we more or less figured out what caused the explosion yesterday."

Vera perked up in response to the conversation's changing initiative. "Oh, what was it?"

"It was the cooling system. What likely happened was that I forgot to tighten a valve all the way when exchanging the refrigerant. The skeletons wouldn't have noticed of course so naturally the temperature continued to rise until it was at critical temperature and something inevitably set it off. The moral of the story is that it was my fault."

Vera couldn't read the expression behind his mask. "Is that what's gotten you down?"

"Huh?"

Stockwell suddenly popped up and examined himself. He suddenly let out a tired laugh. "Oh, haha, I guess I looked rather down. No, I'm not necessarily down about that. Regretful, yes, concerned, probably, but depressed about it, not likely."

Stockwell chuckled once more and shook his head.

Vera moved in closer, "Then what is it then?"

"Ah, well, I guess I have been thinking about some things." Stockwell moved over the materials he had gathered. "It's about something Niven said yesterday. About magical skills or whatever, take a look at this."

In front of him were four objects: A whitish, chalky rock, a phial filled with some kind of clear liquid, a small beaker of water, and a handful of fine white grain. Sitting on the workbench along with those were several pipets and phials along with a silver stopwatch and a few other metals.

"I went ahead and investigated what Niven said and found something rather interesting. Now, I don't really notice it while it's happening, but apparently I'm rather quick my hands. But from what I can tell it's not necessarily a speed steroid, but rather the ability to accomplish a complex task in a shorter amount of time. This however manifests itself in increasing the overall speed of my hands of course. What we have here is calcium carbonate, a phial of hydrochloric acid, a little bit of arsenic oxide, and a beaker of water. Watch this."

He hit the stopwatch, and In a blur of motion, Stockwell's hands raced around the workbench. He combined the water with the whitish rock and made acetylene, precisely sucking the gas in mid air with a pipet. He simultaneously opened the phial of chlorine and treated the arsenic oxide, instantly pipetting the arsenic trichloride being created where the two materials touched. He then mixed the two pipettes across the metal catalysts, bubbling the acetylene gas into the arsenic trichloride. He then swiftly moved the resulting liquid into a sealed phial and withdrew his hands.

He hit the stopwatch and glanced at where it's hands were. He let out a soft, and then, slightly deranged laugh. "That was roughly three and half seconds, Vera."

Vera gave him a blank stare, unsure of how to respond. "That's good, right? It seems like a useful skill, yes?"

Anger suddenly appeared on his face behind the mask and he suddenly snatched up the phial on the workbench contained the liquid he had just created. It was perfectly clear. "Look at this Vera! It's Lewisite, it's what I used on Blue Rose, but that doesn't matter. Look! It's clear, it is a 100% pure sample. I did this, in three and a half seconds by just focusing!"

Vera was taken aback by his sudden unexplained anger. "...I-I don't understand."

Stockwell sighed and slumped over. "...of course you don't. You were born in this world. Magic is so normal to you that something like this would never even cross your mind as being abnormal."

He took off his gas mask and looked at his hands. "It's something physically impossible and yet I did it. The only explanation is that this isn't the same body I had back on Earth. This isn't my body, Vera. How...how exactly was I summoned into this world? Just _what_ exactly did you summon?"

Vera suddenly realized what he meant. "She looked down, ashamed. "I don't really know how the summoning spell worked, I think my grandfather was the only one who truly did. All...all I know is that he had set the summoning spell to seek in and capture whatever had the most 'forbidden knowledge'. That's all I know."

Stockwell turned his hands over in his gaze, as if trying to examine every single cell on his skin to make sure that it was still his. His reply was distant. "I see…haha, well that'd definitely be my mind."

Vera stood in silence while Stockwell continued to gaze at his hands.

"Say, Vera."

"Y-Yeah?"

"Do souls exist in this world?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Souls, you know, like the mind, the body, and the soul. Do souls exist in this world? Magic does after all"

Vera blinked and paused for a moment, but her answer was fairly quick. "Well of course souls exist."

Stockwell once again let off a short, half-deranged laugh. "Well of course soul exist, how silly of me." He turned back towards the chemicals on his workbench and began to clean them up.

"Then one final question, Vera."

"W-What is it?"

"Does God exist?"

Vera was taken aback once more. "Come again?"

"God, does he or she exist?"

"You mean the gods? Well I don-"

"Not gods plural, Vera. I mean God. Monotheistic. Is there a heaven and a hell and a creator? Or screw it, polytheistic, it doesn't matter. Are there actual Gods in this world? Real, tangible evidence that there is an omnipotent power?"

Stockwell had turned towards Vera, and to her, he looked like a lost child, his eyes filled with sudden desperation.

"I-I…" Vera answered the only way she could. "I don't know, Wesley. I'm just a stupid mage. I never studied theology."

Stockwell closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I see…", when he opened them again, it seemed that all was back to normal.

He finished cleaning up the materials.

"Then in that case, there's nothing to be done about it. Thanks for the chat, Vera. Stay on top of your studies."

"Hai…"

And with that, Stockwell left the laboratory to go and change into nicer clothes. The company had been stagnant since the demonic disturbance in his absence and he was now finally ready to get back to business.

It was nearing winter, and rumor had it that there would be a war with the Baharuth Empire once again this year, such a thing might be profitable for a prospecting steel trader.


	15. In Motion

E-Rantel, the fortress city that serves as the Re-Estize kingdom's stronghold against the tripoint of the Baharuth Empire and the Slane theocracy. It boasts the highest concentration of pharmacists in the land, and a thriving mages and adventures guild to back it up. It was also the place where the next large expansion of Wesley Steel Works would take place.

While purchasing a carriage and hiring a driver would've been a negligible expense in the grand scheme of things, Stockwell much preferred to sit at the reins himself, as it alleviated some of his paranoia. Because compared to sitting inside of an enclosed carriage, sitting at the reins would allow him to spot a potential ambush in the making, and allow a quicker escape there after. It also could have simply been that focusing on controlling horses offered a small distraction from the noise within his brain. Niven enjoyed it quite thoroughly as well, because riding next to his master often lended many opportunities for conversation.

The two passed through E-Rantel's innermost gatehouse, the passageway into the administrative district of the city.

"Nano...machines?"

"Indeed my boy, machines that exist on the scale of nanometers."

Niven leafed through his lesson on metric prefixes, "Deci...centi...milli...micro… Nano! B-But, that's so small!"

Stockwell chuckled lightly, "Of course it's small, the machines couldn't do their job if they weren't. Though I think it should be noted that the smallest ones were never actually smaller than a few dozen nanometers, the prefix 'nano' at the time was more or less just used to refer to things that were very very small."

"But still! Even two dozen nanometers, that's only like… a hundred water molecules across! That's smaller than bacteria! How do you even make a machine that small?"

"Well, like I said before, the truly small ones were uncommon, and primarily for medical and military purposes. On that scale they're pretty much indistinguishable from drugs, so what qualifies them as nanomachines was their complex use of mechanical bonds."

"Mechanical bonds?"

"Mhmm, they're more or less de facto bonds that arise from the spatial properties or topology of their molecules. It's like how the rings on chainmail can stay together without actually adhering to each other. On the molecular scale, structures like this are called catenanes, and are just one of many different types of mechanically interlocked molecular architectures.

The next step of course would then be to compile many types of these mechanical bonds together into a cohesive unit that would have the emergent properties of your desired purpose. That purpose though is primarily medical, such as transporting certain proteins around the body, destroying the cell walls of specific types of infectious bacteria, or to perhaps serve as an enzyme for a catalytic reaction. Things like that. During my time on Earth, there was practically nothing medbots couldn't cure, so long as you could afford the treatment."

Niven suddenly had a very excited look on his face."So what you're saying is is that you have billions of tiny machines swimming inside of you keeping you healthy?"

"Haha, well, no. By now I'm sure all of the nanomachines have left my system. If I were to be infected with an antibiotic resistant bacteria as I am now, I would probably be unable to make it."

"A-Antibiotic resistant bacteria? You mean like something that could survive penicillin?"

Stockwell held a half grim, half satisfied smile. "There's nothing to worry about my boy. Bacteria is quick to adapt, but not that quick. This world will probably get a good hundred years of bliss before a superbug comes along and threatens to wipe out the human race."

"Y-You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Stockwell laughed lightly. "Haha, well, not personal experience at least. There was a strain of antibiotic resistant bacteria that came around about 50 years before I was born, long before we had nanomachines. It was called the second black death; killed around 4% of the global population in a matter of 2 years, I guess that would've been over 300 million at the time."

Niven laughed along uncomfortably and they continued down the street, trying not to think about how his wonderful discovery of penicillin several months prior would be undone a hundred years in the future. Stockwell waved pleasantly to a merchant on the side of the road who recognized him.

"Ahem, anyways, nanomachines were used for more than just medical purposes."

"Like what?"

"There were much larger nanomachines, roughly the size of small bacteria; large enough to store data, but small enough to travel into the brain. They were used almost universally as substitutes for computers for work and entertainment."

"Computers?"

Stockwell started to do a double take but stopped himself. "Ah, well, I guess it would make sense that you don't what computers are. Hmmm… " He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out ways to explain the concept in terms that the boy would understand.

"Well, computers did so many things and were so integral to society and culture that I doubt I can produce a fair description of them, but let's just say for now that computers were devices that could store, create, and reproduce information and images, as well as connect people from across the world instantly via the internet." He looked hopefully to his side at Niven.

The boy cocked his head. "Hmmmmmm… that sounds both vague and amazing!" He gave Stockwell a big cheesy smile.

"Haha, thank you, I guess I should tell you more about computers later. But in regards to the nanomachines, they were basically able to connect to the brain directly and allow the user to interact with a virtual world much more precisely when compared to a traditional external computer. It usually involved having a neural port and implanted on the nape of the neck however."

Niven rocked back in his seat to steal a look at the back of Stockwell's neck.

"Don't bother looking for it Niven, I never got one."

"Well why not? So far you've done nothing but hype up this whole nano-brain-computer thing."

Stockwell tubbed the back of his neck and smiled bitterly. "Well, I was more of an old school kind of guy and did all my work on external devices. And there was also the matter of hacking as well. I was a somewhat high profile person back on Earth to say the least, so establishing a neural link would simply be asking for every hacker in the world to take a crack at accessing my brain and extracting information, or commit crimes using my persona. And even if i could afford the best anti-hacking software in the world, it was simply just safer to forgo getting a neural port altogether. Did that make sense?"

He looked to Niven and saw that he comprehended practically none of it. "Ahem, anyways, it wasn't that much of a loss. People generally used those kinds of nanomachines/neural ports for highly specialised software and video games, neither of which I used or had much interest in."

"Video games?"

"Mhm, from what I hear, people could play games in highly detailed virtual worlds that could replicate many senses that normal VR gear couldn't. Basically, people could have fun with each other and compete in fantasy worlds-"

Stockwell looked around at the building and people surrounding him. "- Actually, I guess worlds much like this one, funny how that works." He wrinkled up his nose as they passed a cart filled with manure. "Though I also heard that they couldn't replicate smells among other things."

It was an utterly, pleasantly, average day in E-Rantel. Since they were currently in the richest district of the city, the streets were well maintained and the passersby wore fashionable clothing. The two of them received a few looks since Stockwell's sharp features and well trimmed grey hair had begun to grow quite recognizable by many in the kingdom, or atleast many in the ruling class. Stockwell's usual response was a polite wave, though, Niven also caught him periodically waving around a glare behind their backs. He never really did his master's motivations were, in fact he often wondered if the man himself even did.

"What did you say Miss Vera was doing again?"

"She's staying back at the inn to meet up with some people from the mages guild. Since we're in E-Rantel, I wanted to get samples of all the spices, materials, items, and etcetera created solely by magic. It's something I've been rather curious about."

"What's so curious about it?"

"It's been on my mind since I encountered Blue Rose-"

"-What!? You met Blue Rose!?"

"Gah!"

Niven's enthusiastic interruption caused Stockwell to jerk on the reins and upset the horses. The result of which being a pair of startled neighs followed by a hasty apology from the boy.

Niven blushed. "S-sorry. But did you actually meet Blue Rose though!?"

Stockwell sighed and glanced to his side at the boy. "Well, yes, more or less, I ran into them in the capital… before they were killed by Jaldabaoth… that is."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that…" As he said that, the boy's smile slowly dissipated.

"Well, that's beside the point. That point being that the magic caster of the group was able to create objects...ah, er... quartz crystals I presume, from seemingly nothing. And not just a few grams or so mind you, but great big, silicon mongering chucks."

"But Is that really so surprising though? Don't most spells create at least some kind of matter? Like fireballs or lightning, even that is matter, right?"

"Well, yes." Stockwell nodded, "But don't forget about the conservation of mass and energy, my boy."

Niven looked up in remembrance. "Oh yeah… but wait. That's really only a scientific thing, no? Surely magic has its own rules."

"I'm sure it does." Stockwell agreed, "But even so, creating energy from seemingly nothing is one thing, but mass, well, that's an entirely different matter." He paused and chuckled, "No pun intended."

He reigned in the horses and continued. "Have you ever heard of a little equation called energy equals mass times the speed of light squared? Otherwise known as E=mc^2?"

The boy shook his head.

"Well, of course you haven't, I haven't actually taught you any nuclear chemistry yet but I guess I'll go ahead and give you a little sneak peak now."

Niven's eyes lit up in anticipation. "Please do!"

Stockwell smiled. "What it means in simple terms is that mass and energy are interchangeable, that they're both simply forms that matter can take on. Well, actually it's more correct to say that the only thing that distinguishes mass from energy is weather it is traveling at the speed of light or not, as the full equation is actually E^2=(mc^2)^2 + (pc^2)^2, p being momentum of course. What that really establishes though is that momentum, work, kinetic energy, etc., aren't just able to be converted into mass but are in and of themselves, mass itself(and vice versa of course). Of course there are other things we learned later down that road that can be expanded upon such as its relation to unified field theory and fundamental resonance outlined in the past century works with string theory and Dr. Shackleford's 2073 rendition of Einstein's general relativity…" He realised he was getting off topic.

"Ahem, well, all you really need to know right now is that an object's inherent energy can be more or less be measured in joules by multiplying its mass by the square of the speed of light."

He turned to look at Niven. "All of that making sense my boy?"

Niven appeared to be in very deep in thought. And after several seconds of contemplation, a slightly concerned look appeared on his face. "Yeah, I think I got it, in what units is that equation?"

Stockwell saw his face and chuckled. "Ahh, don't look like that my boy. Energy in joules, mass in kilograms, and the speed of light being approximately 299,792,458 meters a second."

Niven's concerned look only deepend. "S-So what you're saying is, is that a kilogram of mass is equivalent to…" Niven squinted, fumbling with the massive number in his head.

Stockwell saw this and smiled with innocent schadenfreude, waiting a little while before interrupting the boy's futile arithmetic struggle. "299,792,485 squared is roughly 8.98755179 x 10^16."

Niven looked up in amazement. "How did you do that in your head so quickly!?"

"Haha, well, I used to work with that number on an almost daily basis. So far I've taught you about all kinds of scientific fields: Biology, Geology, Chemistry, Physics. All of which are important of course and I've taken great care to study them, but really my true fortes are focused in the sub-fields of nuclear chemistry and nuclear physics. I was a nuclear chemist by trade after all."

"W-Woah! That's so cool." Niven smiled brightly, but his boyish amazement quickly diverged when he remembered what he was calculating. "Okay okay, so what you were saying then was that a kilogram of mass is that roughly equivalent to… 90 quadrillion joules!? That's insane!? That's awesome! That's like… a million Veras casting lightning bolts!"

"Haha, well I guess that's one way to think of it."

Niven held out his hand and examined it in amazement. "B-But doesn't that mean anything with mass is capable of destroying cities? Like I mean, just my hand here probably weighs at least 400 grams."

"Well, you're correct in a sense. After all, the first nuclear bomb used in warfare only converted 700 milligrams of mass into energy… wait, is that right? - But didn't Little Boy weigh over 4 tons?"

Stockwell suddenly looked up in compilation, leafing through his memories. "You know what? I think that _is_ right, christ, how terribly inefficient those early nuclear devices we're. Though, I guess the gentlemen on the Manhattan project can be forgiven, they didn't have asimovium nuclear polymers after all."

"...Nuclear bomb…?...Manhattan project-?"

"-At any rate, it only took about 700 milligrams of uranium-235 and 238 to instantly vaporize 60,000 people at Hiroshima."

Niven knew not of these names or places, but he did understand what "vaporize" meant, and that it was not a thing that generally happened to 60,000 people at once. He looked back at his hand in all of it's 400 gram glory. "S-So what you're saying mathematically… my hand contains enough energy to destroy all of E-Rantel?"

Stockwell looked Niven over. "Well yes, in a purely theoretical sense. If your hand spontaneously decided to go nuclear, I imagine E-Rantel would be flattened and the better half of Re-Estize would turn into a radioactive wasteland. That, and about everyone from here to Baharuth and the Slane Theocracy would end up with third-degree burns and shattered windows."

Niven looked back at his hand. "T-Then-"

Stockwell raised his own hand to stop him. "But that's all theoretical of course though. Body parts don't just spontaneously undergo nuclear fission. Converting mass into energy is a notoriously complex and difficult task as you've know doubt surmised. I doubt that unless magic casters can find a way to manifest Uranium-235 or other readily fissile materials into existence, this mass-creating phenomenon won't actually be of any practical use in terms of generating energy, at least not until we atleast have type III fusion reactors or asimovium. So as of now, it's merely just a curiosity."

Stockwell saw Niven shift in the seat, relief filling the the boy's face. "Wait, you weren't seriously concerned about spontaneously blowing up were you?"

Niven blushed and shook his head. "O-Of course not."

Stockwell suppressed a small chuckle and they continued on in silence.

Niven softly caressed his hand as they drove down E-rantel's cobbled roads, his mind filling with more questions than answers.

His voice was quiet, "I was just thinking about how cool science is. At H-How exciting your world must have been, where unlike here where only a few people can use magic, everyone could use science and technology instead."

A petite smile grew on Niven's face.

"It's just, all these things you've told me about your world, Earth. You all knew so much about the way the universe worked, biology, physics, chemistry, it's like you had everything figured out. And you all possessed technology and medicine that could take care of all your needs... and even though you mentioned that you had these...these bombs and militaries...I still just can't imagine Earth being anything other than a utopia."

Niven turned to Stockwell after he failed to reply for several seconds. "Master?"

The scientist seemed to be in very deep thought. "...Sorry my boy, it's just that…that was a rather interesting assertion you just made."

Niven wanted to ask further, but the forlorned expression on his master's face told him that it was probably best to leave him to his thoughts. That was also okay though, as Niven had much to think about as it stood already, mainly, the information his master had shared with him thus far and the wonders assured to come.

They continued onward in silence once more. And Stockwell took a long, deep breath of the fresh Re-Estize air, musing to himself all the while how the clean air on this planet was free of charge.

"Niven, do you know where you're going after this?"

The boy was lost in his thoughts.

"Niven."

"-hah?" Niven realised he was zoning out and quickly apologised. "Ah, s-sorry. What were you saying?"

Stockwell gave him a glancing once over and repeated himself. "Do you know where you're going after this?"

"Yeah, I'm setting up the foundry. It's in the middle district."

"Yes." Stockwell nodded. "The warehouse should already be vacant. Materials for the foundry should also already be there be. There's also a few men from our branch in E-Pespel that should meet you there to help things along. If all goes well and Renner hasn't decided to screw me over yet then I should be able to catch up to you in a couple hours." Stockwell noticed that Niven was zoning out once more, "Hey, you alright my boy?"

"-Hmm, oh, yeah, I'll be fine by myself." Niven straightened up a bit. His master's subject matter had changed from science to business, and that entailed both a change in tone and in attitude. Frankly, he didn't particularly enjoy talking to the steel trader, and even worse, Rhamnusia.

Stockwell looked Niven over one final time. "Well, anyways it looks like the mayoral building is just up ahead. I'll be seeing you soon hopefully."

…

The Shining Gold Pavillion. It was a place that only nobles or the wealthy could afford to live in, and was one of the most famous locations in E-Rantel. Its restaurant also supposedly served the finest food in the whole city.

A waitress approached her from behind. "I hope everything is still alright, ma'am?"

The woman at the table was wearing an eyepatch over her left, golden colored eye. Stockwell insisted that she wore it when ever she was to appear in the company of the Grey Wolf, supposedly to make her less conspicuous. And though she didn't really see how wearing an eyepatch was markedly less conspicuous than heterochromia in the first place, she at least understood that it was simply more or less a placebo to help appease Stockwell's paranoia about someone tracking them.

She realized that the waitress was still standing over her, "Y-Yes, thank you."

As the waitress gave her a suspicious nod and walked away, Vera tried not to look so pathetic. She had already accidentally bent two sets of silverware and didn't want to cause anymore trouble.

There existed spells that could create things from seemingly nothing but magic. Simple things like spices, salt, building materials, freshwater, and so on. In fact, many people made their entire livings by creating materials with magic and selling them. And in many places, society could simply not persist without these types of utility spells, such was the self-evident universality of those kinds of spells.

Yet for reasons she could not hope to understand, Stockwell insisted that such spells threatened to upturn the very laws of nature themselves and had promptly asked her to collect as many different samples as possible.

Thankfully she had a few lingering contacts within the mages guild so getting a hold of a wide range of materials would not be hard, especially when she had the name and wealth of the "Grey Wolf" behind her.

She held in her hand a metal knife.

She was more or less finished with her meal, so she had figured she would try practicing some magic while she waited.

 _Lorentz force…. A magnetic field's effect on a moving charge…_

She looked around the dining room. It was a quiet afternoon , and about an hour or so after lunch. There were a few people coming in and out, rich men and women dressed in elegant clothing, but only a few. No one payed her much heed.

She looked back down at the knife. _So it acts perpendicular to the flow then...wait, so what direction would that actually be then again…? Oh, yeah, the trick._

She held her right hand forward and made the shape of a gun with her thumb and index finger. She then stuck her middle finger out perpendicularly so that it was pointing away from her palm. It was a trick called the "Right hand rule" that Stockewell had shown her

 _So if the direction of the charge is my index finger, and the direction of the magnetic field is my middle finger, then the direction of the force is my thumb._

She nodded to herself, sure of it this time. _Okay then, I was just being too timid the last two times and forced the knife back which is why it must've bent. Just going with the flow should give me what I want: a nice, controlled movement._

She sandwiched the knife in between her hands and laid them on the table. She then looked to the wall directly to the right of her ust to make sure no one was there if something went wrong and she lost control.

 _Alright, nice and easy…_

She turned her hands into a pair of conductive panels, using the knife to serve as an armature between the two. She then magically affixed the flow through the knife, so that as it traveled through the air, it would take electrons from the atmosphere and perpetuate its movement.

 _Now to just give it a little juice to start it up…_

She felt the knife start to vibrate in her hands. _Excellent, wait….. was it the direction of the positive or negative-_

Her hands slackened just enough for the knife to break free. She had hoped to gently levitate it towards her right, but instead, she more or less forgotten how acceleration worked and had accidentally ended up creating something akin to a miniature rail gun-

-pointed in the opposite direction.

The knife rocketed leftwards from her hands.

She sprang to her feet. "Watch out!". But the knife had already accelerated to a potentially dangerous speed. Anyone unlucky enough to be in its way was liable to be seriously injured.

The knife made a silver streak through the air as it headed toward the large, ornate doorway that led to the inn's lobby. And to make matters worse, Vera could see the large outline of someone pushing against the wooden dividers on the other side to get into the room. _Oh no! Someone's going to get hurt!_

"Sir! Watch out!"

The knife smashed into the wooden divides in a shower of splinters and continued out the the other side. Right towards the person entering from the other side.

"Sir! Watch out! There's a-"

She had expected to hear the sound of a piece of metal sinking into someone's flesh followed by a spatter of blood and a wail of pain. However-

 ** _Crunch._**

Stepping into the restaurant was a mountain of black metal. The knife had crumpled against the man's armor and fallen harmlessly to the ground. He bent over and picked it up, "...Hmm, what's this?"

Vera froze in a half run from across the room after seeing who it was, there wasn't a single person E-Rantel who wouldn't recognize that armor. Vera's mouth struggled to formulate words. "M-M-M..."

A women stepped into the room from behind him. "What is it, Momon-san? I thought I saw something come through the doors..."

The two of them examined the crumpled knife in the warrior's hand and the few other patrons in the restaurant also starred in bated breath.

Vera quickly forced her legs to move, that knife must have been moving well over a hundred meters a second my the time reached the doorway. So effectively, she had just committed what amounted to assault with a deadly weapon against one of the two members of the legendary adamantite adventure team darkness, in other words, Momon. Standing around would only make it worse.

She moved both swiftly and clumsily to the pair who where still at the doorway, bumping into tables as she went. She bowed stiffly at the hip.

"I-I'm sorry! I-I was practicing magic and...and - It was an accident!"

Nabe stepped before Momon, clutching the hilt of her sword. "You're truly foolish if you think you can get off with just an 'I'm sorry'-"

Momon gave her a light karate chop on the back of the head, causing Nabe to emit an oddly, and uncharacteristically adorable squeak. She rubbed her head and stepped aside.

Momon's voice was deep and slow. "I assume this is yours then?" Vera slowly came up from her bow to see the crumpled knife in Momon's outstretched gauntlet.

"H-Hai."

She respectfully took it from his hand, trying not to look up towards the pair's faces, as she could feel Nabe's murderous glare drilling holes into her scalp. And as she did so, she noticed something odd. Even though the knife hadn't been moving _too_ quickly, one still would've expected it to have left some kind of mark on the armor, as even orichalcum would at least show some signs of being shot with a gun. Yet, the place the knife had collided with was spotless.

That alone meant that Momon's armor was made of metal of the highest possible quality, and furthermore proff of his undeniable wealth and might.

 _Ahhhhh! I want to die!_

Vera continued to avert her gaze, choosing instead to commit her brain power to figuring out the best way to leave the confrontation without commiting anymore offenses.

"O-Once again, I'm so-"

"-I'm so very sorry Momon-sama." It was the waitress who had spoken. "I knew this woman was trouble from the moment I laid eyes on her. She will be escorted from the building immediately."

The waitress reached to put a hand on Vera's shoulder but was intercepted by Momon. "It's quite alright ma'am, accidents happen."

"But-"

"Everyone makes mistakes and no one's perfect, including me."

The statement caused Vera to gulp in her throat. _So it's true then… what the say about Momon…_

"It's clear she bears no ill will and apologised, as such, there is no reason for me not to forgive her."

Momon was easily the strongest warrior in E-rantel and likely the strongest human in all of Re-Estize and the surrounding nations. For such a man to admit to making mistakes…

 _He's so kind and humble…_

"Would you please raise your head, miss?"

As the waitress reluctantly scurried off and the patrons pretended to return to their meals, Vera found the courage to look up.

"T-Thank you for your kindness Momon-sama, if there is anything I can do for you please just ask."

"There actually is something I would like to ask you if you don't mind."

 _What!? Since when do people actually take people up on those kinds of offers!?_

"O-of course, what is it?" She could not tell what the warrior was thinking behind that blackened visor.

"Firstly, you wouldn't happen to be the same woman with the eyepatch who interrupted my duel with Jaldabaoth in the capital would you?"

Vera's face froze in realisation. _Ahhhhhhhhhhh! That's right! I actually did something like that! There was so much going on that I didn't thank him properly for saving Wesley and I! And after interrupting that duel - what would've happened if we messed him up!? I've been so rude! I want to die!_

She bent over once more and tried to sound calm, but her reply came out like more of a squawk. "I'm so so sorry sir. A-And I'm sure Wesley is sorry too. After you risked your life fighting Jaldabaoth we rudely interrupted you and possibly threw you off. I don't have words to-"

"Nonsense, something like that couldn't possibly throw me off, and the spell you cast on my sword was powerful enough to give Jaldabaoth pause, which ended up saving me instead."

Vera smiled bitterly. Momon was clearly lying, choosing to belittle himself in order to save Vera face. This was also evinced by the fact that she could now feel Nabe's eyes boring all the way into her brain. _He's so remarkably kind…_

"P-Please, Momon-sama, no need to-"

"It is fine, I swear. Miss…"

Vera realised she hasn't introduced herself yet. "Oh, uh...It's Vera, Vera Koshkin, Momon-sama."

Momon nodded in an almost kingly fashion, which at the time seemed odd to Vera, like he was practicing acting like a king for some reason. "Umu, then secondly, Koshkin-san, I would like to hear a little bit more about your magic."

"M-My magic?" _Why would a warrior want to know about my magic? Wouldn't Nabe normally be the one to ask something like that? Or… Is he perhaps just an intellectual type?_

"Yes, I'm very curious, is that a problem?"

"No, of course not. I-If you can keep a secret that is."

Momon nodded and gestured that they should sit down. "'A magician never reveals their secrets.' is that it? Not a problem."

Vera nodded and they quietly ventured to one of the tables with Nabe trailing silently behind.

"So then, Koshikin-san-"

Vera was sure she was imagining it, but Momon's slight but sudden change in tone and body language made their conversation seem almost like an interrogation for a brief moment. Regardless, it put her a bit on edge and caused her to recall something Stockwell said: _Knowledge is power, Vera, in any world. It wouldn't be wise to go off spouting scientific secrets everywhere._

"-You said that knife you accidentally shot at me was the result of you practicing magic?"

"Hai, I was playing around with the idea of using-"

 _Well, surely I can talk about it a little bit. I just have to avoid using any specific names or divulging detailed information._

"-using a special kind of lightning magic to move metal around. But guess I messed up the direction and gave it to much power which is why it probably got out of hand and hit you. O-Once again, I'm sorry."

Momon seemingly ignored the apology attached to the end. "A 'special kind of lightning magic' you say?"

 _Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?_ "Y-Yes, like... how to say this so you would understand. How there are certain metals that magically attract each other, it's sort of like a lightning magic, yes?"

"You mean like magnets?"

 _What!? He knew all along!? Wait, wait, I guess magnets aren't that unknown on second thought._ "Y-Yes, I was using magnetism, I'm sorry for doubting your knowledge."

"I see…" Momon nodded slowly. "Then that spell you used on my sword at the capital, [Magnetize] If I remember you saying correctly, that was also the result of you using a magnetism spell?"

"Yes, It's as you say."

"Hmmm…" Momon seemed to go into deep thought. "I didn't think that this sword was magnetic."

"W-What?"

"I was under the impression that only iron and steel were magnetic, neither of which are in this sword." Momon drew one of his swords and layed it gently on the table. "And I also noticed that Jaldabaoth himself was also drawn towards the sword as it rocketed towards him, did you perhaps magnetize the iron in his blood?"

Vera had to do a double take. _He… He knows so much…perhaps Momon truly is an intellectual...that or this is just common knowledge and Wesley was just catching me up with all of those preliminary lessons. If that's the case then It's probably safe to talk a little bit about science, especially with Momon who's probably the most trustworthy person here._

"Y-Yes, it is as you say Momon-sama. During the demonic disturbance I figured that your swords probably would have only been made of the highest quality metals, that is to say, not of iron and steel. And what you said about iron in the blood… I-It's true that iron is magnetic, but iron in the blood is not in its metallic form so it responds to magnetic fields just like any other piece of flesh. So that being said, instead of trying to turn things into magnets, I just gave your sword a strong negative charge and Jaldabaoth a positive charge."

"You mean like electrical charges?"

"Yes, I guess [Magnetize] is a bit misleading of a name. The charges were not even technically real, they were more like 'phantom charges' that simply tricked the objects into moving how I wanted to without actually exchanging any electrons in between them. And because of that, the effect should of wore off pretty much the moment I stopped casting the spell. I'm sure you would've felt the hair raising on your skin in response, right?"

Of course Momon couldn't have felt the hair on his skin raise in response to the electrical charge, since he had neither skin nor hair, but Vera had no way of knowing that. Momon continued to stay deep in thought. "I remember the sword moving very fast, too fast to simply be magnetism, why is that?"

"W-Well, like I said before, it wasn't quite magnetism per say, but rather just the interaction of opposite charges, the force on the sword would've been proportional to the strength of the charges and thus the electric field generated between them. And I don't think I would've held back at the time; I probably ended up using as much mana as a third tier spell, so it would make sense that it was pulled towards Jaldabaoth with a large amount of force. Especially when you consider that it would've only accelerated faster the closer it got to him."

"I see… then Koshkin-san, can just anyone create and manipulate these 'phantom charges' like this? How did you learn to do it all? I don't remember coming across any magic like that here."

"Well-" Vera rembered that Nabe was still with them, and how she was supposedly fended off four demon maids rated at 150 difficulty level within another part of the all by herself during the demonic disturbance. If true, that would've made her easily ten times stronger than Vera . "Anyone can create the necessary charges and forces to perform that kind of magic, after all, it's actually just a simpler, incomplete form of the spell [Lightning] and it's other various forms. Anyone can learn with a little practice, and I'm sure someone like Nabe-sama who specializes in lightning magic would've long since mastered it."

She felt Nabe's gaze harden on her. _Yikes, why does she hate me so much?_

"As for where I learned that magic...I owe it to my late grandfather. Though I would rather not talk about it..." The more truthful response would've been to name Stockwell who truly taught her about electromagnetism. However, the one who taught her how to cast magic all together and thus the techniques and motions necessary to manipulate the electromagnetic force through magic was indeed her grandfather, so it wasn't entirely a lie.

"I see…" Momon then bowed politely in his seat. "I'm sorry for your loss. I apologise for making you bring it up to satisfy my curiosity."

Vera panicked and wagged her hands in front of her, gesturing for Momon to raise his head. Something that both she and Nabe seemingly agreed upon. "N-Not at all, I was simply making up for shooting a knife at you, you should not be apologising, especially not someone like you, please raise your head Momon-sama!"

Momon obliged and lifted his head.

In that moment, Vera caught the form of several cloaked figures entering the inn's lobby. She recognized them as the people from the mages guild whom she scheduled to meet up with her.

She stood from her seat and bowed to the pair. "It seems I have work to do. Thank you for the kind words and the conversation, Momon-sama."

"Likewise, feel free to find me anytime you're in need or wish to talk about magic."

As Vera awkwardly left the table and headed for the inn's lobby, she inexplicably felt her cheeks grow hot.

 _Is it because…?_ Momon's last words to her was to feel free to seek aid and company, in other words. _I just made friends with Momon, didn't I!_

She smiled softly to herself and gestured to the robbed figures to follow her outside.

Back at the table, Momon and Nabe watched the doors close behind her.

"What do you think of her? Speak freely."

"Hai, I believe she is a bagworm, unfit to stand in you pressense, Momon-sama." It was Narberal's usual reply when asked to speak freely about humans.

He didn't bother addressing her personal views. "I meant more about that magic of hers."

"Hai." Nabe tried briefly to recall Vera's face, what had been irritating her the whole time had to do with the fact that her eyepatch made her seem like she was trying to mimic her little sister. "I felt that she was about as strong as that tick we met in the graveyard. As for how she explained her magic, I understood none of it, I find it very suspicious."

"Suspicious how?"

"Like she was trying to hide something. Just to be safe, I suggest abducting her and extracting from her everything she knows."

"Is that truly what you think?"

"Hai."

Ainz laughed lightly behind his helmet. "Kukuku. It's true that her magic is different than that found in YGGDRASIL, and even Demiurge and myself were interested in her."

"Then-"

"-But that is simply how much of the magic in this world works. I can also imagine no reason for her to lie to us. She even brought up that she learned magic from a late family member, people generally don't lie about that. You need to learn how to be able to read people better, Nabe."

Nabe's foremost thought was that bringing up a late family member would actually be a rather obvious way to lie, though she didn't say so, after all, if Ainz said it, so it must be true. "Thank you for sharing your wisdom with one such as I, Momon-san."

Momon nodded grandly. "Umu. That being the case, I think it would be safe to take what she said at face value and thank her for gaining insight into the various ways magic works here. I also established friendly relations with her in hopes that she may come to us with more information."

Truthfully, Narberal's plan of abducting her was the most logical one if there was any question about her possible importance and connections to Rhamnusia, however he refused to do so for a different reason other than simply, 'trusting her at face value'. It was more so because she was known to be close to a certain rich merchant, and from what he gleaned from Demiurge's reports, said merchant would probably be important for some grand scheme involving the princess and the Re-Estize kingdom. It wouldn't have been a problem if he actually knew what said scheme was, but he was still sadly and desperately left out of the loop. But he couldn't exactly admit that to anyone of course. In other words, the best way to ensure that he didn't turn into a bad boss and ruin Demiurge's plan was to simply just make friendly relations and let the woman be.

Nabe broke character and bowed low in her seat. "Truly your wisdom knows no bounds, Momon-sama."

…

Unlike most territories within the kingdom of Re-Estize that were under the control of their respective nobles, the city of E-Rantel was under direct jurisdiction of the crown. As such, all taxes and regulations for the city needed to be negotiated with the mayor who ruled in the king's place. His name was Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier.

"You have friends in high places, Wesley-san." Rettenmaier's greasy jowls jiggled joyfully. "You wouldn't mind sharing secrets on how to get on her good side with a friend sometime would you?."

The mayor's appearance was that of an unremarkable pile of oily flesh of with more than generous girth. On top of that, he also breathed like a pig sometimes which painted him in an incompetent and overall untrustworthy light.

This was all actually an elaborate facade however, as Rettenmaier was actually a very bright individual who used his appearance and mannerisms to catch his possible enemies off guard. On the inside, he was a noble belonging squarely to the royal faction and a hard worker who cared deeply for his citizens. And It was for precisely these reasons that he was appointed as mayor of E-Rantel in the first place.

Stockwell smiled bitterly to himself , "I'm afraid you would be a bit too good natured for her liking Mr. Rettenmaier."

"Ha ha! Nonesene! How could anyone be too good natured for a sweet little girl like that?" The mayor let out an exaggerated laugh.

Stockwell was obligated to laugh along, after all, this was not the kind of laugh one used in response to a joke, but one used to solidify positive relations between two parties that conducted business. However, unlike Rettenmaier, Stockwell knew the truth behind Renner's innocent appearance and her imminent betrayal hanging over him like the sword of damocles and could not bring himself to laugh.

A harsh chuckle was all he could manage. Rettenmaier could obviously sense something was afoot, but could also tell that it was probably due to personal matters and thus not something he should try prying into. And because the deal on the table was favourable for E-Rantel, it didn't take much self convincing to get back to the original conversation.

"Haha… Ahem, well anyways, allow me to summarise what is currently on the table. The taxation on all ore imports to the city are to be abolished, in addition top priority to all ores and forging implements within the city is to be allocated to Wesley Steel Works. In exchange, Wesley Steel Works is to move it's base of operations to E-Rantel in addition to the various auxiliary benefits promised via the royal faction. This was all outlined in the letter I received from Her Highness this morning."

Stockwell nodded in agreement. Rettenmaier reviewed the contract on his desk on last. "As it seems Wesley-san, this deal is rather one sided, don't you think? Moving your entire base of operations from E-Pespel to here simply to dodge taxes on ore imports seems excessive, especially since I hear that you've already had a deal cut with the noble heading E-Pespel."

"It's true that the larger moiety of my company is located in E-Pespel," Stockwell replied, "And that I indeed have a deal with the noble there lowering the taxation on ore imports. However, the only reason E-Pespel became the home of my company in the first place was simply do to its proximity to my home village of sorts. E-Rantel on the other hand has a nice centralized location connected to the major trade routes of Baharuth and the Theocracy which will be necessary for my company to go international and has a greater access to the mining companies I rely on. And although small, the taxation rate on ore imports in E-Pespel is not zero, so moving to E-Rantel will be beneficial in the long run should this deal go through. There is also a point to be made that making the move itself isn't that costly because a large part of the company's assets exists in infrastructure within E-Pespel that physically can't be moved. As such, what's actually going to be making the move is a large quantity of steel and coin that will be stored in a warehouse here. I obviously plan to build more foundries here as soon as possible, but I do actually already have one being made here as we speak."

Rettenmaier smiled, "So I heard. It seems you already anticipated this deal going through."

Stockwell allowed himself a polite laugh. "I hope that's not a problem."

"Certainly not." Rettenmaier presented the contract along with a pen. "Sign here."

While the kingdom's spoken language was identical to english, it's written language was a completely different monster, and made barely any phonetic sense to him. Regardless, do to sheer exposure and much schooling from Niven, he had learned to read and comprehend it with a fair amount of competency, however he had still yet to fully develop the muscle memory needed to write letters quickly which made his penmanship horrendous. His name was the only exception to this though since he had many opportunities for practice by signing documents before hand.

When first forming his company Stockwell needed to go by a name of course, but the surname "Stockwell" was too conspicuous for its fame, and the middle name "Asimov" for it's specitivity, he also chose to forgo those names in public perhaps because a small part of him had grown weary of seeing it everywhere on Earth. However, his ears had already been acclimated to his name and changing it entirely would be a hassle, so in the end , he simply chose to go out in public under the universal mononym "Wesley".

This was all fine and dandy for a time, but then to his horror one day when he had to sign a formal document for the first time, it was clear that a mononym wouldn't cut it. So because he was on the spot at the time, he wrote down the first and only name to come to mind that he knew would sound normal in this world and one that no one was currently using.

He took the parchment from Rettenmaier and signed his formal name. Wesley Aamon.

Because he was only known by the name "Wesley" publically, only a few people knew this formal name of his, and no one had yet to really call him by it yet. That being the case, it really didn't matter to him all that much.

Rettenmaier took back the contract. "I'll write up some orders and send out a runner right away to make sure the information gets to the right people. Why don't you wait in the waiting area until we get back conformation? It shouldn't take that long."

Rettenmaier stood and outstretched his hand. Stockwell shook it firmly. "Of course, I'll be here then in case anything comes up. Pleasure doing business."

"The pleasure is all mine."

After that, Stockwell was shown to the waiting room by an attendant.

It was quite large and luxurious, but that was to be expected of the mayoral building. However it looked unnaturally large by virtue of the fact that it currently only had a single occupant.

He is a big-bellied man dressed in elegant clothes. He was clean shaven, with black hair streaked with many strands of white, evidence of his ripe age. His name was Baldo Lauffray, a wealthy provisions merchant.

Because of where the waiting room was located, Stockwell had ran into him briefly several minutes prior on his way to meet the mayor and had not come off with a negative impression of him. To Stockwell, he was just a simple an honest, calculating merchant who was motivated by profit but did not neglect the people who worked under him, and unlike many of the nobles in the country, he was a self made man. In other words, he was someone who he could get along with well.

The attendant closed the door behind him and Baldo gestured for Stockwell to join him at the seat next to him.

"I trust your deal went through alright then, Wesley-san?"

He smiled and took his seat. "Indeed, though there wasn't any doubt in the first place."

"I imagine that's because it was all planned to go through beforehand by the golden princess and that mind of her's, am I right?" Baldo gave him a sly wink.

"That…" Stockwell immediately went on guard. "You know Renner's true nature?"

The only people who were supposed to know about Renner's true intelligence and intentions were Marquis Raeven, Prince Zanack, and himself, so a provisions merchant operating out of E-Rantel knowing about it was nothing short of worrying. He instinctually glanced around the room to make sure no one else was listening in.

The look on Stockwell's face was all Baldo needed to see to know what he was thinking. "Haha, such familiarity, I guess that confirms it then, that the golden princess is truly a demon behind closed doors?"

Stockwell looked him over closely, but it seemed that his comments weren't meant as a pretense of blackmail. "It's okay Wesley-san, I just wanted to confirm my suspicions. I had received information a while ago that suggested that there might have been more than meets the eye when it came to her. I don't plan on telling anybody about it."

"You said you received information…"

"That's correct… Wesley-san?"

 _The information he received only "suggested something" about Renner's intelligence, I doubt that means the information would've been from Renner herself since she would never be careless enough as to hint to her true nature without the intention to reveal herself fully. So from the sound of it, the information he received was probably something like an offhand comment that merely suggested the possibility of Renner's importance. But the only people who would've been in the position to make such a comment besides myself would've been Raeven and Zanack, neither of which I can picture having any reason to bring Lauffray into the fold, and If they did, I'm sure Raeven would've told me about it. So that being the case, who could've possibly told him about her? No one else should know about Renner..._

Stockwell's eyes suddenly opened wide in realization. _Wait! There is one more person!_

"Uh… Wesley-san-?"

"-Mr. Lauffray, this information wouldn't have happened to come from someone named Demiurge would it?"

Baldo was a merchant with many years of experience behind him, as such, he should've been well versed at holding a poker face. However, even he could not hold back his anxiety at the sound of the name, and now it was his turn to look around the room nervously for eavesdroppers.

"Yes… the truth is is that I actually wanted to talk to you about something else. But the fact that you know that name and you're working with the golden princess means that you probably know more than me."

"What is it, Mr. Lauffray?"

"Something big is coming, I don't what it is, but it's big, something that concerns all of Re-Estize."

Stockwell's eyes narrowed. "What makes you say that?"

"You see Wesley-san, due to the nature of my trade, not a single strand of wheat leaves this kingdom without me knowing about it."

Baldo leaned in and began talking in a hushed voice. "So one day, I guess about four months ago, it became evident that an exorbitant amount of grain was being exported from Re-Estize secretly. And you see, it's not like it was just being exported normally, none of the trade routes showed any signs of additional trafficking. I don't know how they did it, but it was like all of it was being teleported out of the kingdom."

"Teleported you say? Like with magic?"

Baldo nodded grimly. "What's more, there was evidence of large quantities of provisions being moved around in the capital but no evidence of food actually coming out of city stockpiles, noble holdings, or even market supplies. The only possible way that could happen would be if the food was coming out of the royal stockpile, in other words, the entire national reserve."

"What? But how, and why?"

Baldo leaned in further, his voice gettin even quieter. "Indeed, that's what I wanted to know as well. The provisions that go into the national reserve are procured by taxes and thus belong to the crown and the people of Re-Estize, they're not supposed to be for sale."

"Just to be clear, how much food are we talking about here?"

"The national reserve is this kingdom's way of staving off a famine in the event of a failed harvest. It's enough to sustain the population of Re-Estize for half a year."

Stockwell mulled the figure over in his head. "Thats… a lot of food. And you said this was all just disappearing from the capital? Does teleportation magic of that scale even exist?"

Baldo shook his head, "I have no clue, but needless to say, I found myself hot on the tracks of a massive conspiracy. And that's when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"After several days of careful investigation, I managed to find a lead, a foreign noble who was visiting the capitol. Someone happened to witness large quantities of food being moved to a warehouse under her jurisdiction. I actually met her here in E-Rantel along with her butler quite some time ago, their names were Lady Solution and Sebas."

"Wait…" Remembrance flashed through Stockwell's mind. "This Sebas… was he tall and gentlemanly? Maybe in his late sixties? Always wears white gloves?"

Baldo nodded. "That's him. I'm assuming you're familiar with lady solution then?"

"No, I only ran into Sebas by chance in the capitol. I lended him a hand on a couple of occasions, but that's all. I never met his mistress."

"I see…" Baldo stopped to organize his thoughts. "Regardless, on my way to Lady Solution's residence to question her about my findings, I was stopped by a man named Demiurge."

Stockwell could've sworn he heard Baldo's heart skip a beat. "He looked normal on the outside, tall, handsome, adorned in foreign clothing. But that was only the outside. The kind of air he gave off was, well, nothing short of terrifying. Like he wasn't human. Like he was something evil. I honestly thought i was going to die from just a single word."

"W-Well? What happened next?" Stockwell's breathing was staccato and filled with anxiety.

Baldo shook his head nervously. "I-I can't say in detail. He offered me several lucrative business deals. His intelligence is devilish, and it was clear that the wealth and power he command was unimaginable. There was no way I could turn him down you see."

"...Indeed."

"What's more, he said that if I had any questions about anything that I should ask her highness. That's why I asked you about her earlier to see if she truly was hiding something. And now it that I think about it, the disappearing food must be in part her doing. She's a member of the royal family after all, so she probably has knowledge about the palace and loopholes therein that people wouldn't normally be able to get their hands on."

"I see…" Stockwell thought long and hard about everything he had just learned. Things were beginning to make sense in his mind, but he still couldn't quite get a grasp of the complete picture. There was also another thing that didn't make sense to him.

"Why tell me this, Mr. Lauffray. It seems like this is rather classified information."

"Haha…" Baldo laughed nervously. "Hearing you say that is starting to make me regret this. Ahem, no, I told you because it seemed to me that we were in similar situations, and that it would be safe to tell you. Are we not?'

"What do you mean by similar situations?"

"You're a merchant whos working with the golden princess and you're also probably working with Demiurge. And from the way you spoke his name earlier, it's clear you also have your reservations about him? Am I wrong?"

"No… No, I see." Stockwell nodded slowly. "Yes, indeed we are in similar situations."

Baldo allowed a small and hopeful smile to grace his face. "Perhaps it was really all my imagination, but there was something evil about Demiurge, something that disturbed me enough to permanently imprint his image into my mind."

"I can relate…" Stockwell recalled how a similar thing had happened to him when he encountered Jaldabaoth.

"And while I may be working with him now, I find it hard within myself to fully trust someone like that."

He then turned and made direct eye contact with Stockwell. "You're like me, Wesley-san. A commoner, a merchant who worked up from nothing, we ought to be able to understand each other. If we're and the rest of Re-Estize are to survive, we need to stick together." He outstretched his hand.

"You know, Mr. Lauffray. I could've just as easily been a spy working for Demiurge all of this time. Admitting something like that could've meant your execution."

Stockwell smiled and grasped his hand. "You got a lot of balls. I hope I can rely on you when shit hits the fan."

Baldo returned the smile, and this time it was filled with genuine hope. "Likewise."

"You know, Mr. Lauffray, I may have-"

Before Stockwell could finish his sentence, the door flung open and a courier flew into the room "-I have a summons for one Baldo Lauffray-sama!"

The two of them stood and Baldo Approached the courier. "What is it boy?"

The couriers face was flushed red with exhaustion and his words were but islands in a sea of breaths. "Your….*huff*... presence is required in…*puff*... the royal palace..."

Stockwell and Baldo exchanged a pair of confused glances. "Thank you for coming so quickly boy, go and get some rest."

They began to exit the waiting room when a second courier came barging through the door.

"-I have summons for Mayor Rettenmaier "

Stockwell and Baldo shared another exchange of glances "...what the hell? What's going on-"

A third courier came barging through the door, tripping over the second.

"I have summons for a one, Wesley Aamon-sama."

On their third and final exchange of glances, things seemed to click within with their minds. Why else would a provisions merchant, a steel trader, and the mayor of a fortress city located on the border of Baharuth be summoned to the capital all at once.

"It seems we have work to do, Wesley-san."

"Indeed."

…

Vera was walking down the streets of E-Rantel, her arms weighed down by bags full of odd materials, when she heard a faint hissing coming from beneath her cloak.

She quickly made her way towards into an alleyway, a place more or less out of the public eye. She put down her bags and fumbled around inside her cloak for the source of the hissing.

"Ah, got it." She discreetly removed a small box with a long antennae from within. She put it to her ear and pressed a switch, causing the hissing to fall silent.

"This is Vera. Over."

She pressed the switch again, allowing the hissing to return once more. Only this time, there was a muddled voice attached to it. "It's Wesley, something has come up. The Baharuth empire has declared war on the Re-Estize kingdom, my presence is needed in the capital. Over."

Vera nodded to herself before accessing the device once more. "You sound worried. Wasn't this entirely expected? You said this war was going to be good for the business. Over."

"Oh, I sound worried? Well, I guess that's to be expected. Anyways, I want you to go to E-Pespel and examine the current rate of production of the foundry, the one where outsiders aren't allowed, you know the one I'm talking about. Over."

"Got it. Over."

"You also procured the items, yes? The ones made with magic? Over."

"Yes. Over."

"Good, then instruct Niven to return Moot and begin investigating them. He already knows what to test for. After you're done in E-Pespel meet me back in E-Rantel, bring Gas masks, several of them just incase. Over."

"Roger. Over."

Vera silenced the device and concealed it beneath her cloak.

"Now then… Which way was the foundry that Niven was at?"

She picked up her bags and continued down the street. She thought over the brief conversation she just had with Stockwell.

Everything seemed to be going to plan, but she couldn't shake the deep sense of foreboding doom she sensed in his voice.

* * *

 **Sasuga Ainz-sama**

 **Many people may or may not be dying next chapter.**


	16. Exercise in Triviality

**Events in the next two chapters are based off of those in the L/N because the anime gave them little justice in my opinion.**

 **I excluded the majority of the war council because it is mostly expository noble bickering inconsequential to the plot and I could not find it within myself to regurgitate that in a faithful and non-plagiarizing way.**

* * *

Renner sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Sitting beside her two brothers and father, she appeared shining star, the golden princess of the kingdom. She made sure to smile to everyone entering the hall. It would be best to inspire feelings of patriotism in the hearts of those about to attend a war meeting.

The voice in her head continued to speak with her.

" _How much grain is left?"_

She replied only with thought. " _None. The last of the reserve is headed for E-Rantel now. Solution-san picked it up this morning."_

" _Then all is going according to Ainz-sama's plan. All there is to do now is wait for him to show the world his glory."_

" _Certainly."_

Renner smiled radiantly to someone entering the hall. Normally It was a trained and automatic movement. But that was for normal people, when she saw who it was she made sure to put extra sweetness into it.

" _By the way, our stray dog has just arrived at the meeting."_

" _Test to make sure he can't hear our discussion."_

Renner looked straight at the newcomer's face and watched it closely.

" _Hey! Wesley-san! I know you can hear me! I know who you are!"_

She waited several seconds but nothing happened.

" _He didn't react. I doubt he's listening in."_

" _Are you certain? He could be feigning ignorance."_

" _I'm sure. He isn't dumb, but he also isn't particularly good at hiding his thoughts. I would've noticed if he heard."_

" _Very well, I'll take your word for it. But be careful, remember, based on what we know, he likely has someway of eavesdropping on our conversations that we can't detect."_

" _That would make my assertion that he's Rhamnusia himself more likely then, right? Everything we know points to that."_

" _Normally I would agree with your assessment, but Ainz-sama insists that Rhamnusia is a player like himself, and regards him with utmost with caution. That human is much too weak to be one of those. So the only logical conclusion is that that human is working as Rhamnusia's subordinate."_

" _If he's so weak then why not just have one of the shadow demon's follow him at all times?"_

" _What do you mean? Didn't you say so yourself that he seems to be able to sense when a shadow demon is watching him? Also, until we can confirm with 100% certainty that Rhamnusia doesn't possesses the mind control item that was used on Shalltear, we can't to send any spies to watch him directly. The risk of one of our own becoming a double agent is too great."_

" _You give that man too much credit. If you're so worried about him, why not simply try to make a double agent out of him? Surely Ainz-sama would be able to convince him."_

" _I'd normally agree with that assessment too, but since Ainz-sama said that Rhamnusia is a player, then there is a high probability that this 'Wesley' is one of his creations. If that were the case, his loyalty would be impossible to change._

 _Our only option respecting Ainz-sama's order for absolute caution is to observe his actions in a more traditional manner. I've already taken the liberty of setting that up."_

" _I understand."_

The call ended and Renner went back to greeting guests with her smile.

...

In the past, any meeting involving all six of the great nobles was assuredly going to be tense one. But that was in the past.

Currently, it wasn't so much that the atmosphere was tense, rather than that it felt like everyone was sitting on barrels full of dynamite with the floor sprinkled in black powder while everyone simultaneously juggled lit firecrackers in their hands. A scene that may have been comedic to a select few, but a single suppressed smile or misaligned giggle could threaten to blow everyone to kingdom come. And in truth, much of it was Stockwell's fault.

"Ah, Wesley-san, over here." Raeven beckoned Stockwell to stand next to him. "It's good to see you, I had heard you'd fallen ill after the demonic disturbance."

"Yes, thank you for your kind words. I'm much better now." Stockwell said. "I also received your letter on the way. Everything has been prepared for."

"Marvelous. I'm hopeful that something surprising will happen during this meeting, but regrettably, I think this will go all go exactly as expected. "

Stockwell took his place and glanced around the Hall. Standing with him at the core of the room were each of the six great nobles: Raeven, Blumrush, Pespea, Urovana, Lytton, and Boullope, as well as the first and second princes: Barbro and Zanac. Behind them and around the peripheries of the room where many others as well; lesser nobles and other miscellaneous personas within Re-estize, included among them were mayor Rettenmaier and the merchant Baldo.

At the front of the hall sat King Ramposa III with the warrior captain Gazef Stronoff who stood stalwart at his side. Princess Renner also sat quietly in the corner.

 _With that damn smile of hers no less._ Stockwell looked away and shivered, acknowledging the off feeling in his gut and remembering from the conversation he had overheard long ago that there was probably some kind of monster hiding in her shadow.

The fact that he was allowed stand so close to Raeven and the other nobles, in other words, the primary vehicle of discussion, gave credence to how significant a player he had become in the kingdom recently. It also demonstrated how much the balance of power had shifted away from the Noble faction and into Raeven's hands, who was likely the only one who actually wanted Stockwell to be standing with them.

And the reason for the noble faction's decline was because of the steel trader course. Firstly, many of the lesser nobles within the Noble faction had long since realised that they could make much more money if they ousted the current iron forgers on their lands and helped Wesley Steel Works to take over industry there. This was because of the Grey Wolf's almost magical ability to produce high quality steel from ores that were generally only used to make low quality iron, thus making the net increase of value after processing much greater than before. A massive increase in value in any part of the market would naturally yield greater returns to the ones presiding over the business in their holds, in other words the noble. There was also no doubt that several deals had been made behind closed doors with the Grey Wolf himself to get even more of the profits. Needless to say, many of the members of the nobility faction jumped ships to the Royal faction as part of these deals.

Of course, a small cut of money and increased value of an important market might've be enough for some nobles whose loyalty was flimsy to begin with. But there were still many who jumped ship for a different reason, and that was because the Nobility faction's demise was all but a foregone conclusion at this point.

The two biggest players of the Noble faction, Marquis Boullope and Count Lytton,had been killed in some scandal with the Eight-fingers some time ago. No one actually knew it of course, but this was also the Grey Wolf's fault.

The first sons of Boullope and Lytton were still inexperienced, and had to deal with the fact that they had been bequeathed a losing battle. They felt the eyes of everyone in the room laughing at them pityingly.

But even though the Noble faction had fallen from grace, the fact still remained that they held a considerable amount of power between them. And that was the main cause for tension.

The great doors to the hall closed and the idle chatter fell silent. They waited for the king to begin his address.

"Now then, let us begin. Read out the proclamation delivered by the Imperial emissary."

In accordance with the King's orders, the vassal to his left began reading the contents of the parchment.

The contents were roughly as followed:

 _The Baharuth Empire acknowledges the sovereignty of the independent Kingdom of Nazarick, ruled by the great magic caster known as the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown, and formally recognizes it as an ally of the Empire._

 _Originally, the region near E-Rantel was the domain of the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown. The Kingdom of Re-Estize is unlawfully occupying this territory and must now return it to its rightful owner._

 _If the Kingdom does not comply with this demand, the Empire will aid the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown in an invasion to reclaim the Sorcerer King's territory._

 _This will be a just war, fought to end unjust occupation._

After the contents were read out, the room exploded into a hubbub of discussion. These terms were insane, and so was anyone who agreed to them.

"Just in case, I have also had the scholars examine the Kingdom's history, and no mention of any individual named Ainz Ooal Gown ruling the surroundings of E-Rantel was discovered. There is no legitimacy to this claim."

…

The immediate discussion was kept rather brief. It was understood by most that this "Ainz Ooal Gown" was just a casus belli. And despite Gazef's efforts, war was ultimately decided upon. It was the only logical option if the king was to save face.

...

It was apparent from the bickering in the room that very few individuals actually cared about the well being of Re-Estize. Stockwell drifted into his own mind. _This is about what I had expected… All these nobles care about are their own hides._

He glanced at Gazef who had been shot down decisively during the discussion. _The warrior captain's looking pretty distraught right now… it might be prudent to take this 'Ainz Ooal Gown' into consideration, maybe I should-_

"All right. Then, we shall delay our reply to the Empire, and gather our troops at the usual place before we declare war. Naturally, I will be going as well." Since the room had devolved into petty prattling, Raeven took it upon himself to move the discussion forward and addressed the king. "As for arms situation I sent word to you about, it would seem that everything has already been arranged for."

King Ramposa looked to the man standing next to Raeven, "So that must mean you are this famed 'Grey Wolf' then? Wesley Aamon?"

Stockwell bowed the minimally acceptable amount. "That would be me, yes."

"I can see where you get 'Grey' from in your name, your hair is almost the same color as mine. I also believe I've seen you around he palace from afar, in the company of my daughter no less." The King's eyes softened into those of a doting father, "I do hope you've been on friendly terms."

 _...Regrettably._ Stockwell bit his lip. He could practically feel the little girl's gaze boring into him from across the room.

The king had brought up the subject of his daughter not simply on a whim however. In actuality, he was using a conversational tactic that would give him insight into Stockwell's allegiances. By opening up the conversation, he was allowing Stockwell the chance to act familiar with him.

Stockwell knew this, but didn't feel like playing political games at the moment. "We are all aware of how lovely princess Renner is, but there are more pressing matters to discuss at the moment, your majesty."

"Hmmph, if you insist, Wesley Ammon. It would seem our social rituals are lost on you." Ranposa sighed. "Marquis Raeven is calling for 250,000 soldiers. We have yet to field an army of such size; additional spears will need to be made, and many blades and pieces of armor for the higher class will need to be reforged. Since you own the majority of this nation's steel industry, we will be looking to you for support." Ramposa looked at Stockwell.

"An order of that size is child's play for Wesley Steel Works." Stockwell looked into Ramposa's hardened face. "And since it would seem that the country is in dire need and that the royal treasury has seen better days, I'm willing to be accommodating in terms of compensation."

It was implied by this statement that Wesey Steel Works would be willing to lower the normal price in exchange for political favours down the line. Ramposa understood this well.

He looked deeply into Stockwell's steady gaze. "I can now see where you get the 'Wolf' in your name from. Very well then, I shall accept your offer. I trust that there will be no issues regarding our army's equipment."

Stockwell bowed a bot lower than before and returned to his place. "Thank you for your generous patronage."

That was all that Stockwell needed to say for the meeting and so his job was done.

There was still some discussion afterward, but it was largely trivial.

King Rampossa concluded the meeting shortly after.

…

Naturally, Stockwell met with Raeven a little ways outside the meeting hall as everyone was aiming to leave the palace. He found him off in a corner, watching all the nobles passing by with their expensive bags and clothing. To be perfectly fair, Raeven too also had and expensive bag and clothes with him, but at least he had a reason for it other than simple vanity.

"About what you expected, Mr. Raeven?"

"The meeting itself, yes, about what I expected. However, the future of Re-Estize is in much more peril than I expected," said Raeven. "I swear, those two boys heading the Noble faction would rather self-destruct and take the whole kingdom with them than swallow their pride."

"Yes…" Stockwell said. "Boullope and Lytton might be able to do some damage, but I don't see them destroying the kingdom. I'm more worried about Baharuth at the moment."

"I suppose." Raeven agreed. "You and her highness have certainly done good work throwing wrenches into their schemes. But Baharuth has never- oh I see Wesley-san, you're worried about E-Rantel, aren't you? You just made a corporate move their, correct?"

Stockwell nodded grimly. "All my liquid assets are there as we speak. The last thing I want is for my warehouses to be sacked like they were during the demonic disturbance."

"I doubt you need to worry, Wesley-san. E-Rantel is well fortified, even if Baharuth is somehow serious and successful in the field, they would not be able to mount an extended siege."

"Perhaps but…" Stockwell glanced around him. "I have it on good authority that this war will be unlike the others."

"Who's authority?"

"My own instincts." Stockwell glanced around him once more, as if looking for spies. "Do you ever catch yourself watching the shadows and not knowing why? As though some deep, primal part of your being knows that dark magics are afoot and is acting on self-preservation."

"I think you are being paranoid, Wesley-san"

"It's Renner, Mr. Raeven. "I don't think she has the kingdom's best interests in mind."

Raeven frowned. "What make you say that? So far she has done nothing but save this kingdom."

"To what end though? You know as well as I do that she doesn't give a damn about helping people. She's a sociopath, Mr. Raeven. She's the kind of person that'll sell her soul to the highest bidder. You can't trust someone like that."

"Even so, I'm afraid we don't have a choice but to trust her. But again, I think you're being paranoid. Regardless of her personal disposition and whatever her ultimate goals may be, she's still the princess of this kingdom and will need it's favour along with ours to operate. She has no logical reason to throw that away."

"Then why E-Rantel?" Stockwell pressed.

Raeven's eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

"Why would she encourage me to move E-Rantel? She even negotiated with the mayor to help me along. If she -... if she knew that E-Rantel was going to be captured by Baharuth... and if she was worried about my growing influence and other activities and was looking for a way to get rid of me then…"

Raeven put his hand up to stop him. "That's a bit of a reach in reasoning. Not only would she have no reason to get rid of you like that, but your logic would have to rely on the pretext of her being able to 100% reliably predict the location, intent, and outcome of the war several weeks before it was even declared. And nobody could-"

"-Hold on, Mr. Raeven." Stockwell's eyes locked onto someone approaching behind them. Hel called out to them. "Warrior captain."

Raeven turned and greeted the new arrival. "Ah, Stronoff-san. How are you?"

All the men exchanged hands. Gazef allowed a tired smile to cross his face. "I've been better. It feels like all of Re-Estize is fighting against me."

Raeven laughed lightly. "Yes, the room really gave you a hard time."

"I know this is presumptuous of me, but If only they could have just see through my eyes…" Gazef said despondently, "Then I'm certain they would have decided on a different course of action."

"Handing over E-Rantel to Baharuth is not on the table, warrior captain." Stockwell interjected. "Forgive me for being so blunt, but that is the last thing this kingdom needs."

Gazef sighed, "Yes… someone in your position would say that. I don't mean that as an insult, Wesley-san, after all, his majesty decided as such as well. It's perhaps just my instincts talking…"

Raeven's expression changed at the mention of instincts. It would seem that he was now listening to Gazef very carefully. Stockwell glanced in his direction, the beginnings of a plan was forming in his mind.

"I'm the furthest thing from a superstitious person, warrior captain." Stockwell said, "But I think there are some cases in which listening to instincts is warranted. In your professional opinion as a soldier, how do you think this war is going to turn out?"

Gazef looked carefully between the two other men. He and learned recently about Raeven's true nature and knew that he could trust him. But as for the other…

Raeven caught on to gazef's thoughts. "Wesley-san is trustworthy. He has no reason to betray the interests of Re-Estize or her people. He's just an honest businessman seeking his fortune, and he's been working closely with me for almost a year now."

"I see…" Gazef nodded slowly.

"He also charged into a sea of demons and attacked Jaldabaoth with a dagger for Gods' sake."

Gazef's expression completely changed and he opened up upon hearing that. "Oh, so that madman was you! I had thought I had seen something like that happen during the demonic disturbance but I had assumed I was hallucinating. I'd apologize for not jumping in after you, but luckily it seems like you made it out just fine."

Stockwell frowned and rubbed his forehead in pain. "Yes… a friend of mine went in after me and managed to get me out… Life in this world would certainly be impossible without her. I owe her quite a bit."

Raeven chuckled. "Having seen it in person, I'd say you owe her more than just 'quite a bit'."

"Well, you're not wrong." Stockwell's eyes hardened, "But I think we may be getting a little bit off track, Mr. Raeven."

He turned to Gazef. "As I was saying before, warrior captain. I want you to tell us in you professional opinion, without fear of being unpatriotic, exactly how you think this war will unfold."

Gazef closed his eyes. He talked slowly and deliberately. "I know for certain that this war will be unlike any of the others, and I doubt the difference will be good. Ainz Ooal Gown… He treated his name with great importance. I doubt he would allow it to be used for something like a weak causes belli. If he really intends to take E-Rantel, and he fight's in earnest, I'm doubtful of our ability to stop him. I can not give you an exact number since I do not know the exact extent to his power. All I can tell you is what my instincts are telling me: engaging him is _very_ bad idea."

Raeven's face was flooded with a different kind of worry that the kind that he had before. He was beginning to entertain the idea that the kingdom might collapse for a completely different reason. "Is the situation truly that grim?"

All Gazef did was nod, but the simply action contained within it an unspoken gravity. The look in his eyes suggested that he was contemplating the end times. The image deeply disturbed Raeven. He retreated into thought. "I-I see…"

Stockwell's eyes narrowed, "I see, then if that's the case, it's only right that we do absolutely everything we can to help the war effort." He looked straight into Raven's eyes and spoke earnestly. "If there is anyone you know, absolutely anyone you know who can help Re-Estize, you must contact them. Promise me."

Raeven recoiled slightly at how hard Stockwell was pressing, "Y-Yes, I promise. I'll take that to heart…"

Stockwell sighed with relief. "So how long do we actually have?"

"A little more than two months." Raeven said. "If nothing unexpected happens."

He looked between the two other men, "I guess I'll be taking my leave then, I need to be getting back to E-Rantel as soon as possible. As fate would have it, I have a very large order to fulfill." He shook their hands. "Mr. Stronoff, Mr. Raeven."

"I wish you well."

"Farewell, Wesley-san, have a safe trip."

"Thank you, you two- Ahh!" Stockwell tripped over Raeven's bag as he went to leave. "Christ, sorry about that."

He picked himself up. "Heh, Guess I'm not as young as I used to be." He bowed shortly, "Gentlemen."

He turned and left the palace.

…

Raeven looked tentatively around the corner. "Lockmeyer, no one is following us, yes?" Raeven was dressed in a cloak that concealed his entire body. He didn't wish for anybody to know about this.

Lockmeyer trailed close behind him, keeping watch for trailers. "It's all clear, sir."

"Good, stay here and keep watch. I can manage from here."

"Hai."

Raeven rounded two more corners alone. He already knew the way. He had come to this alley way before. Nestled in the crook of his arm beneath his cloak was a very special kind of magic artifact. According to the voice that came from within it, the artifact was called a "radio".

It had appeared in his bag after the meeting. He had some suspicions as to how it got there, but only suspicions. As for who it actually belonged to though, of that he was certain.

A figure appeared from within the darkness of the alley. "Ah, Marquis Raeven, how good of you to show up."

Raeven swallowed the lump growing in his throat. His voice was different from the one he had heard through the "radio" and a little different from what he remembered, but his appearance was undeniable proof of who it was. "R-Rhamnusia-sama, good to see-"

"-Now now, Raeven-san. There's no need to be so formal, we're friends here, you and I, right?"

"F-Friends? Ahem yes. Friends." Raeven thought that was probably the wise answer. There was no need to be making more enemies, and besides he had steeled himself to come for a very particular reason. He was in need of a favour.

"It's been a some time Raeven-san, why don't we catch up a bit. How's your little boy doing?"

It would seem that the demon wished to engage in small talk, Raeven mused. Regardless, he was still genuinely thankful for what Rhamnusia had done for him. "He's made a full recovery thanks to you. You have my gratitude."

"That's good to hear. I was afraid it wouldn't arrive in time. All that Jaldabaoth nonsense really complicated things."

Raeven's eyes grew wide. "So her highness was right! I had assumed you were working with Jaldabaoth."

"Working with him! So you just assume that all demons work together?" Rhamnusia recoiled. "I hate that fiend almost as much as God himself! In fact, he had even took it upon himself to show me exactly what true hate is! I-"

Rhamnusia calmed himself. "Forgive me. You see, I've invested quite a lot of energy into this collapsing, godforsaken kingdom, so when surprise demon emperors and yandere princesses come out of the woodwork to ruin all my plans, it's understandable that I would get a bit frustrated. Surely you get me, right, Raeven-san?"

"R-Right…"

"So, since it seems that we're now on this topic of this doomed little kingdom of ours, I believe you had a proposition for me? I had figured that you may be having second thoughts about this little spat with the Empire, so I sent you that radio in hopes that you might find me."

"Yes, it's as you say, Rhamnusia-sa… -san. I made a promise to seek out anyone who might be able to help Re-Estize on the battlefield. And so…"

"And so you thought I might be able to alleviate some of your stress, yes? But stress is not so easily alleviated, Raeven-san. If you require my services, it will cost you."

Raeven gulped once more. "Of course, and we're- _I_ am willing to pay. I'm sure that once Re-Estize is victorious in this war and stability is returned we will be able to reimburse you for your troubles."

"Reimburse me for my troubles you say?" Rhamnusia laughed slowly. "I'm afraid no amount of gold will compensate for my troubles."

"Then-"

"-As fate would have it, Raeven-san, our goals are somewhat aligned. I despise the idea of Baharuth to plundering E-Rantel even more than you do, so I'm willing to offer you my services at a bargain."

"What… What do you want?"

"Actually not that much Reaven-san, it's a practically a steal. All I want is some information."

"Information?"

"Yes, information. You see, Raeven-san, I'm very generally very good at collecting information, but sadly my opponent, you know her as princess Renner, has been carefully regulating everything that reaches my ears. It's come to my attention though that you, Marquis Raeven, have been having one on one conferences with her. I simply wish to know everything she knows about me, Rhamnusia, and any hints as to who she could be serving."

Raeven cupped his chin. _So that's how it is then. Hmm…_ He was beginning to gain insight as to exactly what kind of person "Rhamnusia" was. _But first…_

Raeven straighten his back. "Hold on, Rhamnusia-san. Before I agree to anything, I must first know if you can actually hold up your end of the deal. Can you actually give me a guarantee that your services are worth the trouble? As far as i know, Baharuth intends to field six legions and on top of that, they're backed by a powerful magic caster named Ainz Ooal Gown."

Rhamnusia seemed surprised at the sudden change in Raeven's tone. "A guarantee, you say? Hmph, you seem to be misinterpreting the mutual level of trust between us. I'm far from what people would call a saint, but I'm not so despicable that I wouldn't hold up my end of a deal. Was it not I who heald your son when no one else could?"

"Well, yes, that's true-"

"-Look at that radio in your hand, Raeven-san. That is a piece of technology so sufficiently advanced that to you, it seems like a magic artifact. It has the ability to allow voices to travel through it for uncounted miles past even the most powerful of anti-eavesdropping magics. To a member of a mages guild, it would be a priceless artifact of study. But in reality, it is nothing more than a few pieces of worthless metal and glass arranged in a clever way. Not a single spell went into its creation.

That is my power, Marquis Raeven, I can use a kind of magic the disobeys all the known laws of your paltry universe. I could raze this kingdom to the ground in a second if I wished it. But luckily for you, I'm a force for justice and fairness. Unlike jaldabaoth who simply destroys and plunders, I simply wish to create and enrich. And so, I find myself being forced to play this nonsensical game of intrigue with a seventeen-year-old girl in a dress."

Rhamnusia outstretched his armored hand, clad in black. "For the sake of this kingdom, I offer to train a few dozen of your men in the use of 'sufficiently advanced technology'. If you shake my hand, all six legions of the Baharuth empire will be at your mercy."

Rhamnusia's hand hung in the air between them for a long time, half concealed by the shadows of the alleyway.

Raeven took his time contemplating his options. He trusted the Rhamnusia's power was real. However… _If I shake his hand, that would mean betraying her highness._

"Excuse me Rhamnusia-san. As tempting as the offer sounds, I'm unsure if I actually have the relevant information you desire. It's true that I have been meeting with her highness privately, but our discussions are not as uh… incriminating, as you suggest. The Grey Wolf likely knows more than me in that regard."

"That is fine." Rhamnusia said. "Anything you know might help me, even if you don't know it yourself. All i ask is that you be truthful. Also, this should already go unspoken, but don't go telling Renner about any of this and keep that radio to yourself."

"…I understand" Raven retreated into thought once more. _If I do what is best for the kingdom, then is that really betraying her highness's interests? If Rhamnusia's assistance is revealed to have been invaluable after the war, than surely she would forgive me…_ The image of gazef's grave look flashed through his mind. _No, Rhamnusia's assistance_ _ **will**_ _be invaluable. And yes, even if she doesn't forgive me, my loyalty lies with Re-Estize not princess Renner. I must do what I know to be best for the kingdom._

Raeven shook the demon's hand. "I accept your offer."

And so, Raeven began to recite in order everything he remembered from his meetings with Renner. It was mostly just plans for large business transactions and some minor scheming to mess with the noble faction.

Much to Rhamnusia's disappointment, ultimately nothing of value was revealed.

...

The building was located on the outskirts of E-Pespel, near to where foodstuffs would be brought in to the city from it's satellite villages. This was because it had once been a slaughter house.

The previous owner had no living family members or a written will so the property was seized by the city after his death, where it then went on to sit dormant for several years. Naturally, it slowly fell into disrepair.

Over that period of time, rumors began to arise about the auspicious building; Strange noises emanating from it during the night, brief sightings of undead walking the warehouse floor. The general consensus was that it was haunted, cursed by the souls of the thousands of animals slaughtered within.

The city had conducted a full scale investigation of course, after all, undead were a very real treat. But in the end, nothing was ever found, and the rumors were chalked up to paranoia and overactive imaginations.

But even after being declared perfectly safe by the city, the minds and hearts of people were hard to change, and children were taught to keep their distance. And needless to say, no one wanted to buy it.

At least, that was until it was sold to the Grey Wolf with great enthusiasm for a meager sum. He actually would've been willing to pay much more for it, after all, the rumors surrounding the building made for the perfect camouflage for what he had in mind for it. But as far as anyone else was concerned, he was just doing the city a favor and taking it off it's hands and turning it into a steel foundry.

Moot village was a small village isolated far off in the countryside which made it a great place to practice science secrecy. The down side of that however was that there was a hard limit to the sheer volume of resources that could be processed and moved. And so came about the need to move certain operations to a larger city where resources could be imported, processed, and stockpiled with much greater efficiency.

"Just guide it over there to the rest, lass. I'll have the bone heads take care of it later."

Vera nodded to the blacksmith and guided a heavy cartload through the large doors at the back of the foundry. Large chunks of white rock could be seen poking through the tarp in the back of the cart. It was salt she had picked up upon request on her way over.

It would be thrown into a large vat and melted down later and be used to create vast quantities of chlorine gas. The process for doing so also created large amounts of hydrogen gas, oxygen gas, and sodium hydroxide, but those all those had many other uses in their own right and would not be wasted.

She finished guiding the cart and hopped down from the seat. "How's everything going, Faber-san?"

"Ah- Not so fast." As Vera approached him, Faber raised his hand to and pointed to the mask he was wearing. "Safety first."

"Oh, of course…" Vera went back to the cart to retrieve a gasmask.

"By the way lass, how is Mr. Stockwell doing? The boy and I haven't seen him for a while and have been meaning to talk to him about some things. It concerns a couple projects.

Vera began fishing around in a compartment underneath the driver's seat, looking for her gasmask. "He's doing fine… I think. I haven't seen him in some time either. He was here in E-Pespel a couple weeks ago but he was just coordinating a few business things. All I've heard of him other than that is his muffled voice through the radio."

Faber sighed. "I can't say I blame the man for being absent. We've all become a lot buisier lately."

"You can that again." Vera found her mask and motionioned to put it on. But as she did so, a knot of hair got tangled in it and painfully yanked her head. "-Youch!"

Faber chuckled. "Sorry lass, but you know how he is with workplace safety. Gas masks are to be worn by workers at all times."

She straightened her hair and adjusted her mask. "For the living workers, that is. "

Of course, Faber and Vera were not the only ones in the foundry at the moment. Such a huge foundry couldn't possibly be manned by two people.

The wide floors that had once been quartered off in the past to pen cattle were now being used to support mechanical behemoths of every shape in size: Swimming pool sized vats of bubbling liquid undergoing electrolysis, immense steel chambers filled with pressurized gases of unknown composition, boilers bulging under pressure, and thick electrical cables crisscrossing in every conceivable direction.

And while the scene could've perhaps look haphazardly to the untrained eye, upon closer inspection, one could tell that there was indeed a deliberate attention to safety, such as the flood chanel that would guide liquids in the event of a vat bursting as well as the heavily insulated cabling. Of course, these safety precautions were only there for the humans who would be spending time in the foundry; they were more or less useless for the majority of the workers.

The crew totaled to around 40 skeletons: reappropriated bones from people killed by Jaldabaoth during the demonic disturbance and members of the Eight-Fingers who started to ask too many questions. Each of them had been given a single, succinct task that they carried out restlessly and undoubtedly, be it turning a crank or bare handing caustic materials.

One thing in particular caught Vera's eye. "Is that new? I don't remember it being that color..."

Her gaze fell on a section of white piping that stood in stark contrast against the grey steel pipes and boilers. It was the steam turbine that supplied electrical energy to the entirety of the foundry.

"Ah, that's right, you helped set up the electrical in the first place. We exchanged the turbine yesterday."

"You… exchanged it?"

Faber's lips curled humorously behind his mask. "Do I hear a little bit of distress in your voice?"

Vera felt herself blush. After all, she had worked quite hard with the blacksmith and Stockwell to help them establish the turbine and electrical system. The fact that the turbine had been changed without her knowledge was a small slight on her pride. "...Maybe a little."

The blacksmith laughed heartily and slapped her hard on the back. "Bwah ha ha! It's nothing like that. All the wiring you and Mr. Stockwell did was kept the same. All we did was replace the steel that made up the turbine and it's housing with mythril. It was an idea that I came up with to increase its efficiency."

"How's changing out the metal supposed to increase its efficiency?"

His eyes narrowed and grin started to form behind his mask. A small joy began leaking into his chest.

It was a feeling he had encountered several times before over his life as a blacksmith, but it only ever come in fleeting amounts. It usually only happened whenever he was forced to figure out a creative way to forge a particularly difficult piece with the tools he had on him at the time.

But with the arrival of the scientist and his projects of ever increasing complexity, he had been feeling it more and more.

It wasn't quite the joy of learning or discovery that came with pure science like Niven experienced. Nor was it simply the joy of taking on great challenges and overcoming them. It was something in between, and thanks to Stockwell, he finally had a word for it.

Engineering.

Yes, engineering. The applied sciences, technology, the ultimate expression of knowledge. One could learn everything there was to know about the universe, but without the ability to apply that knowledge, what good was it?

And even if his wasn't the most creative mind out there, his years at the forge at least allowed him the experience necessary to translate the ideas in his head to the metal into front of him.

"Mythril deforms and expands much less when heated than steel, so that means we can greatly reduce the clearance that would normally be between the turbine and it's housing when we start of the generator. And because of that, much more steam is able to contact with the turbine and thus get it to max speed faster. It also helps that Mythril is roughly the same density as steel, that way I didn't have to change any of the gearings."

Vera pondered quietly, "...is that so."

The engineer smiled toothfully, "It is indeed. Just a little bit of practical engineering is all!"

Vera couldn't help but smile at the man's youthful enthusiasm. "I'm impressed. Anyways, I came by to check on the weapons. I radioed you about them."

Faber nodded. "Yes, production is greater than expected, but that's only because I didn't account for the fact that the bone heads work 24/7. The bulk of them are stored in the old ice storage underground. They just need to be loaded."

"Awesome. Wesley radioed me a little earlier, he said that if everything was ready to go then we should load them onto wagons and join in with the rest of the convoy heading to E-Rantel for the war effort."

Faber scratched his beard. "Hmmm… It'll still take a little bit of time before everything's ready. Is that all right? Also, I'd rather be getting back to Moot soon, I still have that one project to work on and the boy says he's on the cusp of perfecting that mixture for me."

"Yeah, that's fine. Wesley's supposed to rendezvous with the convoy at a point just outside E-Rantel, so it's more of just a matter of merging with the convoy in time. So we've got time to spare." Vera started heading back to the cart. "I was planning on going alone anyway since I'm operating as Rhamnusia's subordinate at the moment."

She smiled to Faber from underneath her mask. "I'll go arrange the wagons. Have a safe trip to Moot."

"Thanks lass, and I wish you luck in this war."

"Yep!"

…

Niven never expected to find himself inside one of these types of stores. It was located just outside of E-Rantel proper, and it was one of those stores that adventurers went to buy supplies.

He pulled his finger out of the tar and watched enthusiastically as the black, viscous liquid slowly fell back down into the bucket. "...master said the stickiness is caused by the van der waal forces between long chained hydrocarbons. How cool!"

An annoyed voice called to him from the front of the store. "Don't you think you're a little bit too excited about watching pitch drop, kid?"

"You can never be too excited about science mister!" Niven hopped up to the counter. "What do people usually use this oil for?"

"It's thick and sticky and burns like hellfire, so adventurers like to fill capsules filled with them and use them as throwing weapons. Rogues and the like. I also sometimes get military people in here inquiring about naval and defensive- Hey! Are you planning on sticking your whole arm in there!?"

Niven wiped the cheesy smile on his face and pulled his hand out of the bucket. He muttered under his breath. "...it was for science." He wiped his hand off with a handkerchief. "Ahem… so mister, where does this oil from?"

"… crazy kid… It comes from the elf country down south. They probably have whole lots of it since they sell it pretty cheap."

"How much do you have?"

"More than enough for you kid."

Niven grinned evilly. "Are you sure about that?"

The shopkeeper eyed him cautiously, "...How much do you need?"

"Wait here." Niven bounded out of the store to his wagon. He came back several moments later rolling in several empty barrels.

He smiled proudly. "I'll take as much as you can give me."

The shopkeeper stared at him blankly. "I uh… er… What in the Gods names does a kid like you need that much oil for? Can you even pay?"

"I need it for a special project I'm working on, super hi-tech stuff. And yes, I can pay. Master made sure to give me lots of money." He leafed through his satchel and withdrew several gold coins.

"...Well I'll be…"

…

Everything had gone off without a hitch. The drivers were paid off and the weapons were on route behind her.

The only problem was that it had been a long trip and- _damn this is uncomfortable._

She found herself quite cramped amongst the the wooden floor and crates inside the cabin of the covered wagon, but that was a small price to paid for the freedom of inconspicuity. No one would be able to see its contents nor tell them apart from the hundreds of other wagons heading to the staging area just outside of E-Rantel. Hiring a proper carriage would have defeated the point of keeping a low profile so she had no choice but to huddle in the back of one of the wagons.

She calculated that they had passed the rendezvous point quite some time, and she began to worry.

And, just as she was about to consider getting out and looking for Stockwell, the crates sloshed forward as the wagon came to sudden stop. She then felt the wagon dip and creak, a sign that someone stepped into the cabin.

"Wesley!"

Stepping into the shaded cabin was the familiar black cloak and gasmask she had helped to make herself. "Why hello there, sorry about the late arrival. I needed to make sure I wasn't being followed." Stockwell removed his mask, revealing a humorous glint behind his green eyes. "I see you've made yourself at home."

Vera soon realized what the glint in his eye was all about. In her never ending battle to find a comfortable position amongst the crates during the journey, she had adopted a posture... unbecoming of a young women, to say the least.

She quickly blushed and sat up. "S-Sorry."

"Not at all, it was a long trip after all." Stockwell found a spot to opposite of her to sit and the wagon began to move once more. After a little while, he unfurled a piece of parchment with scribbles all over it. He frowned in concentration. "...Damn that Renner, this can't be everything she told Raeven…"

"Ummm, Wesley?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I'll talk to you in a second. I'm just still trying to figure all this out. It's all the information I managed to get from Raeven. Oh, by the way, thank you for teaching me to use that voice changing scroll, It worked marvousley.- damnit."

Stockwell rubbed his temples in frustration. "I'll take a look at this again later." He returned the parchment to his pocket. He smiled at Vera. "How are you doing? Long time no see."

Vera smiled, "Less lonely now that you're here."

"Here, a gift. It's pure iron, catch it with your magic." Stockwell tossed a small, grey cube, roughly 5cm in diameter, in her direction.

Vera let a small smirk cross her face, "Not a problem." She raised her hands to intercept the cube.

"[Align Domains]"

The ferromagnetic domains within iron align when exposed to a meager magnetic field, so it took next to no technical know how in order to manipulate the material.

A strong magnetic field permated from Vera's hands. "Easy enough - Wah!"

The metal cube continued forward, unfazed by her spell, and struck her square in the forehead, falling to the cabin floor.

She rubbed her throbbing head and went to pick up the cube. "I-I don't understand… What the… hey!" When she got her hands on the cube, it was unnaturally light. Way too light to possibly made of iron.

A small chuckle escaped Stockwell's lips, "Heh heh heh, sorry, I lied. It was actually aluminium. Just wanted to see what you could and couldn't do with that magic of yours."

"I still could have caught it if you had warned me though…" She pouted.

"Oh, perhaps that's right." The scientist's eyes narrowed. "Would you care to entertain me for a bit and explain once more, about these 'phantom charges' of yours? How you came about them, that is."

"Why the sudden curiosity? I thought I already told you everything."

"Well, I have in my mind what you might call a… 'working hypothesis' about the nature of tiered magic in this world. A refresher on how you came upon that power of yours may be helpful."

"Sure, no problem." Vera shrugged. "It was when you were having me help conduct tests on your battery pack, remember? You were getting mad that my 3rd tier spell [Lightning] wasn't actually moving very much charge. I explicitly remember you saying, and I quote: 'what kind of pathetic lightning is that? You call that static electricity? I could move more electrons by taking a woolen cloth and rubbing my-'"

"-Yes yes… I got it Vera." Stockwell interrupted hastily. "You can skip ahead to the part where you actually discovered the phantom charges."

"If you insist." Vera shot a playful glance in his direction. "It was after I had already exhausted the majority of my mana and we were both at our wits ends. You had me targeting a super tiny piece of gold, so I had to really focus my aiming."

"Ah yes, we were both so fed up that we had forgotten that we were supposed to be testing the battery pack and moved on to see if your lightning could move charge to begin with " The scientist supplied, "But that's when the return stroke happened."

Vera nodded solemnly "Indeed."

"If I remember correctly, the gold had a high electrical potential running through it, it was a test to see if your lightning would be affected. And while you were aiming your spell…"

"Yes. A spark formed between the gold and my fingers and I was zapped. I remember you laughing and saying after 'this little piece of gold wire is a better magic caster than you, Vera. Perhaps I'll have it accompany me into battle instead.' I never held that against you, of course."

Stockwell caught her haughty gaze and returned it. "I see you've become quite casual, fruelien. I still remember when you would blush every time you called me by my first name."

Vera blushed. "E-Ehem.. A-Anyways, you figured out that whenever I aimed [Lighting], or any other of my lightning spells, I was creating an ion channel through the air beforehand that the magically created bolt would then be forced to follow."

"Yes, exactly like the step leader that forms before a lighting strike."

Vera nodded. "Mhmm, except that it only behaved like one, and that there was no actual movement of electrons. In a sense, it was a mysterious 'phantom-like positive charge.'

So in essence." Vera continued. "Whenever I try to create phantom charges, I just pretend I'm casting a normal tiered lightning spell and stop at the aiming process. I just focus on the sensation I get when creating the ion channel and triple down on it."

She turned the aluminium cube around in her hand. "I'm so good at it now, that I just think of it as creating charges and the notion of tiered magic doesn't even cross my mind anymore." She presented the cube. "[Magneti-] Ah, er… that's right, bad name... [Phantom Charge: Positive], [Point Charge: Negative]."

It gently levitated into the air and began to float towards Stockwell. He felt his hair stand on in and draw towards the cube.

"And it's thanks to your teachings that've been able to utilize it so well."

The scientist watched the small cube as it drifted carelessly in his direction. He smiled. "That probably weighs around 0.6 newtons, which means you must be actively applying a force of at least that much in the upward direction in order to counteract gravity. Are you perhaps exploiting Coulomb's law?"

"Correct." The electromage returned his smile. "I've been paying attention, F= (Ke*q1*q2)/r2, right? I gave the cube a small negative charge, and I'm levitating it by moving a positive point charge above it. Oh, uh, it's hard to the differentiate the the charges if they get closer than a millimeter though, so that's where it's about at. I can't do math in my head nearly as quickly as you, but I can generally get a good feeling about how much force is needed."

The cube dropped harmlessly into Stockwell's hand and Vera released the spell. He turned it around in his hand, noting that a large amount of dust had accumulated on its surface during its short flight do to the extreme charge difference. "It truly is fascinating, normally one would expect to have felt it discharge upon touching my body, but I guess if there were never any real electrons there to begin with… Heh, It's just like sticking a balloon to the wall with static electricity but amped up a few order of magnitude."

"Yep!" She nodded enthusiastically _though I have no idea what a "balloon" is_.

"And as long as I can control charges at will, I can control electric fields."

He returned her enthusiastic nod. "And as long as you can control electric fields, it only a simple matter of 90 degrees and a little motion and you can also control magnetic fields."

"Right! It all just a matter of training and knowledge! I can't wait to learn more from you, Wesley."

She bowed the best she could in her current position. Perhaps it was by instinct, or perhaps something more. Regardless, the true magnitude of what the scientist had shared with her really hit her and she found herself filling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Strangely, she noe felt comfortable in her dark, cramped little corner between the crates in the back of the wagon with Stockwell just across from her. And as she felt the crates jostle and creak in harmony with the contour of the road, she hugged in her knees and surrendered herself to claustrophilia.

"I hope that helps you with your 'working hypothesis' about tiered magic."

The scientist looked deep into the empty shadows, "Ah... yes, thank you, Vera dear. I guess that the real question now is why magic only interacts with the physical world on only a very basic scientific level."

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Well, since coming here, It was hard to accept that this is a whole different world and universe with magic its own set of rules. But it's even harder to accept a universe that has inconsistencies within its own rules."

"I'm still not following you here."

"Ha… well…" The scientist released a long sigh. "This may sound crazy, but from my perspective, and according to what I've seen so far, it seems like magic is some kind of aberrant system, hamfisted into an already functioning universe with its own complete set of rules.

I mean, take for example the completely arbitrary nature of the 'paralysis' side effect that has a chance to be caused by lightning spells. We already established that tiered lightning is incapable of carrying charge, so it's not like its actually affecting the nervous system in any tangible way. So I don't even see how its possible in the first place for such a spell to cause paralysis.

But that's not even the most dubious part. When we were conducting tests, why did we observe that the chance for 'paralysis' to occur is completely random? Normally you'd expect to see some kind of bell curve across a population if there were truly underlying factors other than luck at play. But the points were all uniform, as if the outcomes were being decided by some random number generator in the sky."

He looked over to Vera expectantly but all he got was a lost stare.

"Well, like I said, it's still a working hypothesis. For now I'll just default to occam's razor. It's far more likely that I just haven't had enough time in this world to study all the mechanical nuances of tiered magic, as opposed to there actually being some kind of god or random number generator arbiting how magic works."

Having emptied his thoughts, he leaned back against the wall of the cabin and sighed. "Sorry to kill the mood. We should arrive at the staging area soon. There'll be a hundred or so men there waiting for us to show them how to use the weapons. It's best we get some rest while we can, we'll need to be on constant lookout for spies."


	17. Where Humans Go to Die

War often brought partings in abundance, but even so, war also brought opportunities for new meetings. When fighting alongside each other, the Empire's legions would often from a cohesive block by fusing their edges together, as such, the soldiers stationed on said edges would sometimes be afforded the opportunity to meet new faces.

"Say kid, you know can be court martialed for failing to give the Empire's colors the proper respect, right?"

"W-What? "The flag bearer turned having heard the question to see a fellow legionnaire directly to his left. And judging from his face and mannerisms, someone much older and more experienced than him.

"Oh yes, they're real sticklers here once you get out of training. I knew many young soldiers who met their fate at the gallows for letting the colors drop more ten degrees."

The flagbearer looked up and realised that his flag was slouching quite excessively, and just for a moment, he imagined his body hanging from a noose. "Ahh!" He hurriedly corrected his posture and thrusted the flagpole at a proud 90 degrees.

He turned to the legionnaire who had warned him. "T-Thank you sir!"

Suppressed chuckles began to leak out from the men around him and he started glance around "w-wait…"

"HA! Ha ha ha! So enthusiastic!" The leginore who had warned him was laughing profusely. The flag bearer realized that he had been pranked.

"H-Hey… That's not nice. You really scared me for a second."

"Ohh lighten up kid, you looked like you were sick to your intestines so I thought I'd cheer you up a little." The legionnaire extended a hand. "The names Sean Iphidamas, but you can just call me Sean. 5th legion, pleased to meet you."

The flagbearer nestled the flag post into his armpit and took Sean's hand. "Jules Azekah, I'm with the 4th legion, pleased to meet you too."

Sean smiled when he noted the firmness of Jules's handshake. "So, fresh out of training are ya, Jules-san?"

"How did you know?"

"Oh I could tell, and from that terrified expression you had on your face earlier, I think everyone else could too."

"B-But that's because you said I could be hanged-"

"I meant before that kid, when you were looking at the battlefield. It looked as though you were having a waking nightmare."

"Well…" The Empire's formation was on a slight slope so they could see a little bit over the heads of the calvary in front of them and out into the plains. Jules was imagining himself fighting out on those plains against the kingdoms forces. "It's normal to be scared before a battle, these could very well be our last moments alive after all."

This elicited more suppressed chuckles around them from the men listening in on the conversation. Sean shook his head humorously. "Under normal circumstances you'd be right to make your peace before a battle. We all do whenever there's a hard fight ahead-"

Several grunts of approval came from the armored men around them.

"-But right now kid, you best just relax and enjoy your maiden voyage. There's hardly a chance that footmen like us will even be needed on the front lines."

"B-But I heard that the kingdom has fielded over 240,000 men for this."

Sean waved his wand nonchalantly. "I've tussled with those Re-Estize boys in the before, they're nothing to worry about. Just get in close with a sword and they freeze up. Conscripts is all they are, farmers with spears. The fact that you're here in this army at all means that you've had easily 50 times the training as anyone one of them."

"But don't they have that warrior captain, Gazet Strongnott?"

A voice chimed in from somewhere behind them. "Hey! The kid knows his stuff!"

Sean winced and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Okay, well, tell you what, if you happen to run in to the warrior captain, which you won't, then you're allowed to run away."

"Okay, But the kingdom still has over 240,000 men, are you sure we won't be needed on the frontlines? We're in he first set of ranks after all..."

Sean rolled his eyes. "This battle is just a charade kid, we've already won by getting the kingdom to field men to begin with. It's all just a game in order to weaken the kingdom's harvest, one of Emperor Jircniv tricks."

The same voice from chimed in from behind them again. "That's just your theory, Sean."

Sean winced and continued talking to Jules. "A-Anyways, all the battles with the kingdom thus far have started and ended with a cavalry charge, and I don't see any reason for it to go any differently this time. So we've got nothing to worry about."

Jules briefly though it over. "But what about that magic caster?"

"The what now?"

"You know, Ains Oogle Goon, that person from the briefing, aren't we opening an aisle and present arms and everything? Wasn't the point of this battle to help him take over E-Rantel? Wouldn't it look bad on the Empire if all that happened was a small cavalry charge with no actual territorial gain?"

"Ah-" Sean paused as he thought about it.

"Haha! He's got you there, Sean! He does suck with names though!"

"Oh fuck off, Ian!" He turned back to Jules and shook his head furiously. "It's just a casus belli. Our good ol' bloody emperor must just be running out of original ideas."

"But to bring six legions…"

"It's a casus belli, a casus belli, you hear?" Sean was nodding to his own explanation profusely, he had to now the kid was actually making good sense.

The voice came once again. "I don't know Sean, I'm inclined to listen to the new guy on this one."

"I told you to fuck off Ian!" He turned back to Jules. "Anyways, kid, just stay focused, keep your flag strait, and remember your training, do all that and there'll be nothing you need to worry about."

"Yes sir!" Jules allowed himself a small laugh as he said so.

Sean smiled internally. _Well, it looks like we were successful at cheering him up._

As they all laughed and got their pre-battle jitters out, Sean realised that Jules was looking back out over the battlefield again, except this time it seemed he was looking at something specific.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"See that hill all the way over there?" Jules pointed to hill far off into the distance where the fog had just barely receded. "There's a woman watching us from there."

"Huh?" Sean followed his gaze, but the hill he assumed Jules was referring to was so far away that if anyone was indeed actually standing atop of it, they would've registered as only a tiny black dot. Yet apparently Jules had determined that not only was there a person there, but that said person was a woman. In other words, he was bluffing.

Sean rolled his eyes and smiled. "Sure there is, now tell me the one about the Count and the lusty argonian maid."

"H-Hey! I'm serious, there's someone up there. I-I have a talent."

"Of course you do."

Jules stamped the ground. "I really do have a talent! I can tell whenever a woman is looking at me, and I can tell you for sure, there is a pretty woman staring me down from atop that hill over there!"

Sean laughed lightly. "Oh I get it, it's your turn to fuck with me now, is it?"

Jules laughed as well, but also blushed slightly. "I really do have a talent like that though. I can tell whenever a woman is watching me. It's how I met my girlfriend."

There was suddenly an audible sound of men shifting in their armor. It seemed as though every soldier within a 10 kilometer radius had honed in on that word.

Sean smiled evilly, "Girlfriend you say? Oh, do tell Mr. Jules Azekah."

...

A form descended out of the fog behind him. "Wesley, I got it."

Vera landed on the hill next to him, dropping in front of her a flagpole bearing the colors of the Baharuth Empire.

Stockwell looked up from his scribblings, "No one saw you I hope?"

"I swiped it from their rear supply line. It should be surplus, so I doubt anyone will notice it's gone."

"Good." Stockwell put aside his notepad and revealed an odd tool. It looked somewhat like a metalic snail shell with a pair of hooks protruding from a slit in the front. He approached the flagpole and anchored the hooks to one end. He then dragged the tool across the length of the pole, unraveling a long piece of thin, graduated metal.

It was something that the scientist had called a "tape measure",she had seen him use it before. She mused as to how a simple invention, something requiring only a couple coil of wires and a spring could make the act of measuring things so much more convenient compared to markated lengths of leather of string.

Stockwell spoke from the side of his mouth as he carefully measured the flagpole. "I already set up the surveyor, would you mind giving me their measurements?"

"Of course." Vera approached the "surveyor" at the top of the small hill. In terms of engineering complexity, the device looked very simple, it stood on a simple wooden tripod and it only consisted of a few moving parts made of metal, wood and glass. This was because in truth, it was nothing more than a slightly modified sextant. But apparently it had the capability to accurately determine the size and distance of far off objects. Vera adjust the height of the surveyor to make it easier to look through and put her eye to the scope.

Stockwell finished measuring the flagpole. "365.75 centimeters. Hopefully they're all the same." He put away the tape measure and returned to his notepad.

He poised his pencil and motioned his head towards Vera. "What does the reading say?"

"U-Umm…Uhhhh…I-I don't." Her fingers that had grown slick with dew fumbled with the surveyor. "I-I.. How does…" Vera's flustered words hung limply in air before flowing down into the vast expanse of plains below her.

Stockwell spoke once more without looking away from his notepad. "C'mon Vera, I already showed you how to use it yesterday. Just tell me the resultant angle."

"R-Right." She aimed the markings within the eyepiece down the hill top and far, far out into the Katze Plains where dark, moving masses had begun to take shape in the distance. The 60,000 soldiers of the Baharuth empire had finally stopped their marching and decided on where their formation would be.

"Which one should I be looking at?"

"Go for one near the front and towards the center."

Vera nodded and aimed the surveyor. Within the massive rectangle that formed the core of the Empire's fighting force rose several flagpoles. She trained the markings in her eyepiece on the tip of one of the flagpoles nearer the center of the formation and a few ranks back from the front. After noting the measurement, she moved the eyepiece once more and patiently waited for the bustling bodies of the Empire's soldiers to grant her a fair estimate on where the flag bearer's feet were. She nodded proudly to herself and read out the resultant angle created by the analog pointer of the surveyor.

"0.1295 degrees."

Stockwell smiled. "I see you're paying attention to the use of significant figures. Though, even if we modified it specifically for this purpose, the thousandths markings are quite tiny, so please double check to make certain."

Vera put her face right up against the surveyor to make sure she was reading the angle correctly. "Yes, that's definitely it; 0.1295 degrees"

Stockwell nodded once and wrote down the measurement. He then immediately started to calculate something.

"Okay, I need two more measurements. I need to know the horizontal angle between the points at either end of the formation, that is across the Empire's length. And after that, I need you to do the same thing for the width."

"Wait… so…" vera held a confused look on her face as she fumbled around the with the surveyor.

"It rotates, Vera."

"Ohhhhhh!" Vera blushed madly when she realised the top portion of the surveyor rotated so that it could take horizontal angles. She put her eye to the scope once more. "Their formation isn't a perfect rectangle, is that going to be okay?"

"That's fine, just give me an approximation for it's length and width."

Vera nodded. "The angle for the length looks to be about 21.612 degrees, and the width… about 0.592 degrees."

"Excellent." He returned to his scribblings.

Vera leaned over questioningly. "So explain to me again how is this supposed to help us win this battle?"

Stockwell chuckled. "There is nothing overtly modern about what I'm doing here, it's just some simple mathematics. I'm sure there are plenty of scholars in this world who could this."

"Okay. But that didn't really answer my question. What are you actually doing?"

"It's just trigonometry dear Vera. Where ever you go in the universe, mathematics is always the same- Ah" Stockwell paused his scribblings, "How tall are you from eye level again, Vera?"

"Oh, um, 153cm when we measured this morning."

"Yes, of course, thank you." Stockwell began to scribble furiously once more. "So you see, I can take the height of this hill we're on plus the distance from your feet to your eyes to get how high off the plains the surveyor was…15.95 meters. If we assume the flagpole you surveyed is approximately the same length as this 365.75 one you stole, and that the flag bearer is holding it at roughly a right angle, then I can use that along with the 0.12955 degrees you measured to make a system of two triangles . Then all it is after that is just a matter of filling in the blanks with trigonometric functions… tangent of 0.561…"

"What?"

Stockwell continued to mumble as he calculated. "...15.95^2...1628.078...Ah!…And there we are, that flag bearer is standing approximately 1.628 kilometers away from us. Now to calculate the size of their formation using that value…"

Vera waited patiently as the scientist marked up the pages of his notepad. "...90 plus 79.13… 1,657.72… And there we are." He smiled, "All done."

"So?" Vera looked on questioningly.

"According to my calculations, their formation is roughly 655.6 meters by 101.2 meters, giving them an area of approximately... 66,346 square meters, or 0.06634 square kilometers. And with them only being a little over 1.6km away from our current location, things look promising."

Vera still had a puzzled look on her face. "I still don't quite get why this is so important…"

"Well, how do you expect to guide indirect fire without first knowing where your enemy is? Come on, I'll teach you some basic ballistics on the way back."

"If you say so…" Vera turned to look back out over the plains. The Kingdom's army of 250,000 had finally begun to form up ahead of them as well. The king's convoy was just beginning to come into view.

Stockwell gestured for the two of them to put on their helmets. Since they had already equipped the royal guards armor, donning their headgear made them indistinguishable from King Ramposa's personal guard.

"Raeven's probably going to end up using this hill as his base of command, so let's get moving before he gets here. It'd be rather troublesome if he recognized our voices. He should've already dispatched the men we trained yesterday."

The two of them turned their backs on the Empire's army forming in the distance and made their way down the hill to where two horses were waiting for them. "There's no telling how long the staring match is going to be, especially with this Ainz fellow about. Let's make a point to have everything ready and return to the king's guard within the hour."

"Hai."

They mounted the horses and road towards a distant hill, behind which dozens of alien weapons were being readied within the thick fog of the Katze Plains.

…

Stockwell and Vera stopped their horses near the back of the king's convoy and blended in with the surround guards in matching armor. Stockwell mused curiously as he looked across the vast battlefield. "Say Vera, is it just me or is the fog here acting rather strangely?"

It looked as though someone had taken a kilometer-sized cookie cutter and gouged a hole into the ever-present fog of the Katze Plains, allowing the two armies perfect visibility of each other and the battlefield between them, yet completely obscuring the distant surroundings.

"If I didn't know better, I would say that the fog was alive and encouraging this battle to take place."

"It is."

Stockwell raised an eyebrow at Vera from behind his visor. "Excuse me?"

"The fog and weather here _is_ alive. It registers as a single massive lifeform which makes it impossible to search for both life and undeath within the fog. [Necrotic Sense]" Vera's eyes glowed softly behind her visor and her field of vision was flooded with light. "-Gah."

She lifted her visor and rubbed her eyes before closing it once more. "I thought that was why you chose to hide the weapons where you did."

Stockwell turned to looked towards the rear of the army. A wall of fog had already formed behind them. "Hmm… So this fog really is alive then."

Vera nodded, "Yes, well, whatever is, it knows that this battle will produce a lot bodies that will become seeds for more undead to spawn, so it's probably making conditions for battle as favorable as possible."

Stockwell gazed out upon the battlefield once more. "Huh, well isn't that neat, a living battlefield."

Neither army had yet to move. As it was, they were both still waiting for the magic caster, Ainz Ooal Gown, to make his appearance.

"Will those men be alright?" She was referring to the men that the had just organized.

"Yeah, they'll be fine. The two hours of training they received yesterday should be more than enough, especially since all of them are already aimed."

"But is there even enough though?"

"Enough what?"

"Enough everything. The Empire brought six legions. That's 60,000 men. Will we really be alright?"

"Hmmm…. Let's see." Stockwell began to size up the Empire's army. "Hmmmm, yes, indeed..." He nodded proudly to himself.

"Um…. Wesley? So… are we good then?"

"Yes, actually, it's way overkill."

"W-What?" Vera almost fell off her horse.

Sockwell suppressed a small chuckle. "Based on LD50 alone, we have more than enough… uh, what was I calling it again…? Oh Hahaha! Yes, Geneva Cocktail."

"Geneva Cocktail?"

Stockwell glanced over to Vera. "Of course, this world doesn't actually have something called the Geneva Protocol. Hehe, I'll explain why that's a funny name later."

He cleared his throat and continued. "Ahem, anyways, we have more than enough lethal potential to go around, so really all this is is an exercise in area denial. And because they are only occupying an area of less than a tenth of a square kilometer, they stand approximately zero chance of victory."

Stockwell looked off to the side where a man was perched atop a hill a few dozen meters away. "Still though this will all depend on at which point of the battle Raeven decides to use them."

Stockwell caught the glint of the small box attached to Raeven's belt. "You did remember to give the other radio to the men right?"

Vera nodded, "Of course."

Stockwell returned the nod and shifted comfortably on his horse. He felt a strange feeling swell up inside of him as he looked over the battlefield. "I wonder if this is how Haber felt before Ypres…"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, just talking to myself. All that's left to do is just wait for this 'king of sorcerers' to appear and finally get this show on the road. Regardless of how powerful Gazef says he is, he won't be able to win without the help of the imperial legions."

…

"It seems the magic caster is here."

Because they were facing ahead, neither Sean nor Jules could actually see the arriving party, but they could hear the rhythmic movements of the men behind them opening up an aisle between the two legions.

"Hey, kid, it seems this is where we part ways for a while."

"Right." Jules nodded and they prepared for the cue from the men behind them. However, Sean could tell that something was off. He strained his ears.

 _It sounds like people are completing half of the movements… was that in the briefing? And what's that noise?_

A noise was steadily growing in amplitude as it got closer. A kind of metallic rattling, like a loose bolt shaking in it's socket. He soon realised what that sound was, as he had heard it before on several occasions. Just never before a battle like this.

 _Shivering?_

It was the sound of hundreds of grown men shivering with fear inside their suits of armor. His throat suddenly felt very dry and his chest began to tighten up.

 _What's going on… just what the hell is coming? W-What is this feeling!?_

He had experienced this tense, quivering atmosphere once before as well. It was an air produce by soldiers who had just been ordered to die.

 _But the battle hasn't even started yet. Why is everyone so scared?_

He made a quick glance to his right where Jules was still standing. It was clear that he was feeling the atmosphere too, in fact, the little flag bearer had already begun to quake with the others.

And then, the noise that was approaching him was finally within a breaths distance away. The soldier behind him had begun his movements. And after only half a second, he heard the sound of a pair of greaves tapping together, his cue to start moving.

Putting his fear aside, he simply focused on the movements drilled into him. _Left face..._ He turned on his heel 90 degrees to his left… _one and two, click and three and four…_ He took four steps, clicking his greaves together on the second step to signal the man in the rank ahead of him.

All that was left to do now was about-face so that he was facing the center aisle, present arms, and then finally turn back to his left 90 degrees to finish the movements.

 _About-face..._ He turned towards the center column. His hands began to move towards his sword _...and present-_

-He froze.

Trotting along wordlessly in front of him was a knight atop a steed.

No, someone would've have to have been utterly insane to describe the scene like that.

The two beings in front of him were a pair of monsters crudely shaped like a knight and a steed.

The mount was a beast of bone, with mist flickering in place of where its flesh and blood should have been. And it dragged behind it a cloud of yellow and green fog that pooled to waist height, giving it the semblance of a crocodile gliding along the water's surface as it lurks for prey.

It's rider was a knight only in name. It's massive 2 meter frame was covered head to toe in twisted black armor. It had a rotted, disgusting black face whose eyes held a hatred and violence that Sean hoped he would never have to understand.

He knew now why he had only heard so many men before him only perform half the movements. No matter who those beasts belonged to or how trained they could possibly be, no one would dare present arms and risk provoking them, it was simply human instinct.

As he stood frozen in the aura of fear being emitted by the creatures passing before him, He considered himself lucky that he had not been able to catch the form of Ainz Ooal Gown himself.

The riders simply kept coming, and as each one passed, he was able to catch Jules's eyes looking back at his across the aisle, he too had stopped his moventents halfway. They took solace in knowing that each of them were just as terrified as the other, even if he was supposed to be the senior between them.

It seemed to have taken minutes, but the atmosphere did eventually lighten up enough for the soldiers to regain basic motor functions. In seemingly one, nervous mind, each man turned 90 degrees to their left to once again face forward.

They tried not to look at the backs of those monsters.

Sean silently cursed Jircniv's name. _Just what the fuck is going on..._

And then just like before, the legions fell silent. Now that the magic caster was here, there was no more reason to delay the battle.

 _Are we going to be ordered to fight alongside these monsters?_ It was the question on the forefront of everyone's minds. All they could do is wait in ignorance.

Ainz Ooal Gown had taken his position at the front.

After exchanging a few hushed words with the knight Nimble, the magic caster deployed his circle.

From his position near the front of the legion, Sean could see cryptic letters and shapes gliding around the concentric rings forming around the magic caster. He looked across the aisle to Jules, the boy had already broken formation. Feet often decided to move on their own, but that was because the feet were often wiser than the mind, being free from all of the training and complexities that the mind had to filter through.

Jules met his gaze, the boys voice was quivering. "S-Sean-san, w-what magic is this?"

"I don't know. But try to stay in position." Sean gulped in his throat, even if he was just a footman, he was a veteran, a senior, he should not be letting fear in his voice.

"This magic caster is on our side. So we should be-"

"-This will be fun. Ah, it's going to be fun." The magic caster's voice echoed in their hearts. It was simply a fact of the world that the voices of the powerful traveled as far as their wanted them too. That, or it could've simply been because almost no one in the all six of the legions darred to make much noise. They all turned their heads.

Ainz clenched his fist, breaking what an hourglass in his hand. Sand flowed into the magic circles around him.

No one who heard them would forget the words that came next for as long as they lived.

"[Iä Shub-Niggurath]!"

Those were the words engraved upon the first step down the staircase into hell.

…

His heart was fluttering. "Vera, what's going on. Please tell me you know what's happening." The gnawing feeling that something was amiss that he had been suppressing for the last several days had now comeback in full force. Needless to say, Stockwell's confidence was declining rapidly.

From the moment that column of monsters appeared on scene, murmurs had rising uncontrollably from the men around them. Stockwell could see Raeven exchanging panicked - no, terrified words with Gazef out of the corner of his eye.

But right now, everyone was watching, in ragged breath at the blue magic circles contorting around Ainz Ooal Gown.

Vera was just as terrified if not more terrified than everyone else. Having grown up in cult full of magic casters, she ought to have at least _heard_ of every kind of magic out there, but even so-

"-I-I don't know. I've never heard of magic like t-this. Those circles- I - I don't know what's going on!"

The only thing she knew for sure is that it was immeasurably powerful.

That was also the general consensus of the rest of the higher ups. The royal guard had already shifted into a position for retreat.

"Wesley, what do we do!?" She was practically screaming at this point, but no one was paying her any heed at this point.

"I don't know, I don't know. It'll be fine as long as it doesn't cause too much damage, Lets just-"

The black mist blew forward.

 _ **Thump.**_

It was the sound of 70,000 men in the left wing falling over at the same time.

Stockwell, Vera, everyone, they stared in silence. And waited.

And prayed for them to get back up.

They prayed that such terrible magic could not exist.

But in the end, not a single one of the 70,000 got back up.

"Haha…~" Stockwell slumped over lifelessly on his horse, as if coming to a sudden realization.

"Wesley! Wesley! What do we do!?" Vera implored - or rather, begged, because that was all she could do. It was only a matter of time until that magic caster set his sights on the center formation.

However, the fact that no one had yet to start moving or saying anything pulled her back into reality. She followed the silent gazes of the others, up to a black sphere floating in the sky. The sphere, which resembled nothing so much as a hole in the heavens, was like an opened spiderweb; once one caught sight of it, one could not pull away.

The black sphere slowly grew larger.

Be it fighting or fleeing, no human could engage in any meaningful thought or activity. All they could do was stare dumbly.

And eventually, the ripened fruit fell, like the die of fate being tossed.

...

The events that followed seemed almost like a dream, a nightmare. An elaborate, convoluted magic trick dedicated to producing as terrifying an image as possible. It moved quickly, but with indelibility.

The orb had swallowed the bodies of the fallen 70,000, and had summoned a tree in their stead. And that too eventually gave way to the five beings known as the "Dark Young".

They frolicked joyfully, gleefully, mercilcelly. Each footfall signaled another several men being stamped into red paste. If an author had been forced to describe the scene, he would no doubt have filled page upon page with nothing but the word "splat".

…

They had fled like rabbits.

"...Wesley, please…"

Stockwell's horse had more or less started galloping by instinct, it's rider still hung limply atop, lost in his own mind.

Vera dared to glance behind her. There were still several thousand men between them and the dark young, but it was only a matter of time before they caught up to them.

Riding a short distance behind them were the king and his guards, and a little off to the side was Raeven. His orders for retreat came out like wails.

"...Haha… I get it now. I give up."

"W-What?"

Between the sounds of slaughter and the wind rushing past her ears, Stockwell's voice was barely audible.

"...Renner… Demiurge... Jaldabaoth...My company moving to E-Rantel. The grain disappearing from the capital… the decline of the noble faction. It all makes sense now."

"It all makes sense? What are you talking about!? Snap out of it! We need to get out of here!"

His voice was just a weak stream of air leaking from his lips. "Haha~ A truly masterful plot. Every single move made with such foresight, and I've been playing right into their hands."

"You're not making any sense!"

"... And I helped it happen." Stockwell let out an inane laugh and clutched his helmet. "Renner had me sign that contract for the crop rotation, the harvest would have been weak as is this year anyway. The kingdom will be going hungry., the people will have no one to blame but the crown."

Vera glanced behind them again, the dark young were still gaining on them. She prayed to whatever god that may be listening that Wesley would somehow make everything better.

"-And now my company has moved to E-Rantel, we're all trapped… like a bunch of cockroaches in a trash can… that's all we humans every amounted to…"

His soul seemed to fall limply out of his body. "...all made possible by this- this Lovecraftian hellscape. Yes… the only one who could've known it all would've turned out like this… the one who was ordering renner and Demiurge around all this time… the one who was pulling and cutting the puppet strings behind the scenes- Don't you see Vera!? This whole time, the mastermind behind it all was none other than that monster-"

The cry of a dark young rang through the air as if to signal the depths of despair that awaited them.

Stockwell screamed his soul to the god he so despised, "It was all Ainz Ooal Gown!"

His horse started to drift off course, like a lossed arrow that's lost its fins "...It's hopeless, we can't compete with that kind of intelligence, let alone that magic… so I give up… it's just too unfair."

Unguided by it's rider, his horse continued to drift off course, peeling off in the direction of another dark young.

It all made sense, the only thing left now was for the natural order of things to play out and for them to be trampled by the Dark Young.

"...No."

Stockwell's horse began to get back on track. But it was not Stockwell who was doing it.

"No, I'm not letting you kill yourself. [Align Domain]."

Vera was completely terrified, likely insane with fear. It was only by focusing on one single thing, Stockwell, that she was able to move with certainty. Like a mother's superpower to avoid paralysis in the face of overwhelming terror.

Stockwell's body shifted in the saddle - or rather, his armor did, pulled towards Vera by magnetism. The horse responded appropriately and followed the shift in body weight and the increased pressure imparted by Stockwell's opposite calf.

"It's not fair to me or Niven."

He struggled against Vera's magnetic pull. His hands started moving to the reins, "No… you don't understand. It's impossible-"

"-No, you don't understand. I've seen it before, you're not sane right now. You're not thinking straight."

"But Vera! I'm more sane than any one here! I-"

"-It would be best if you rested for a bit."

The tape measure seeming flew from the satchel on the back of Stockwell's horse. "What the-"

"-Sorry."

Vera waved her hand and the tape measure crashed into the back of his helmet. He fell over limply, knocked out.

"Whoa whoa whoa…"

She yanked on him hard to keep him from falling off completely. She quickly rode up next to him and stabilized him.

She looked to where Raeven was. It seemed that he too had finally arrived at the same thought.

They had all been much too caught up in the moment with everything that had been going on, such was the fear inspired by Ainz Ooal Gown.

They had all forgotten about something crucially important.

Raeven clutched a small device in his hand. He had no idea if it would work, but they needed something, anything. Anything at all to slow those monsters down.

He flipped a small switch like he had been instructed to. "Help us! Fire! Fire now!"

However, the ones on the other side of the radio receiving that order were waiting deep within the fog, and had no idea what was currently happening.

And of course, since their weapons had already been aimed ahead of time, they would not be targeting the dark young.

...

"MEEEEEEHHHHH."

The bleating of goats, and the terrified clattering of armored men. Those were the two sounds filling the air.

Sean could see what was happening because he was a good deal taller than the others, Jules was still in the dark on the other the hand.

The flag pole he clutched trembled violently. "W-What's happening Sean-san. W-Why do I keep hearing goats?"

Sean struggled to formulate his words. "I...I…" His eyes were still glued to the killing fields where the Kingdom's army had formerly been. _Please, just run away._ It was a prayer directed towards his fellow members of the human race.

Heads, began to turn. Their gazes resting on the monster who orchestrated it all, Ainz Ooal Gown, every gesture he made filled them with uncontrollable terror.

He slowly removed his mask and revealed, his fleshless, polished white skull to the world. No one would dare consider themselves surprised, no human could ever willingly unleash such horror on their own kind.

In the silence - interrupted only by the anguished screams of the Kingdom's soldiers in the distance - Ainz's voice rang out with exceptional clarity.

" - Applause then."

 _What is he saying._ That is what everyone who could hear him thought, and as Ainz's words were whispered throughout the army, more and more people turned their eyes to him.

Then, when everyone's attention was on him, he spoke again.

"A round of applause, in celebration of my supreme power."

The first to applaud was the dark elf who stood at his side. As though sparked by it, the scattered sounds of clapping began rising up from the soldiers, until it become a thunderous ovation.

Of course, they were not truly cheering for him.

Nobody wanted to applaud a person who brought this kind of cruel butchery with him. This was not war. It was slaughter. A massacre.

Sean was still frozen in place. Clapping roared around him. Jules was clapping hysterically, overrun with fear.

Sean looked left and right, nothing but more clapping. He felt his hands began to move, controlled by instinct. He didn't want to, he didn't want to, he didn't want to-

"S-Sean-san, hurry up-p." Jules's smile was bursting with an uncontrollable terror.

Sean began to back away slowly, his feet seemingly moved on their own. "I...I…"

"P-Please, Ss-ssean-san he'll kill you if you don't-"

Sean's feet were wise, perhaps they had heard the whistling when his ears couldn't. Because that was when the first shell came in.

Jules Azekah died instantly, by a hailstone falling from heaven.

A bulbas steel cylinder weighing in at just over 18 kilograms, it had a diameter of roughly 120 millimeters and a length of just over half a meter. It crashed into him at 150 meters a second, half the speed of sound.

The thin sheet of metal they wore around themselves they liked to call "armor" wasn't even a factor.

To Sean, his friend simply splattered from the kinetic energy. Shards from Jules's armor pierced his body, but he didn't even have time to register that, because less than a fraction of a second later, he was blinded, his field of vision had turned utterly yellow.

The shell had not been planted with an explosive charge, instead, it had been filled to the brim with a chemical agent.

He coughed and wheezed, the smell of garlic and onion was so potent it threatened to knock him out.

The applause had stopped, Ainz's gaze was no longer on the legionaries. The screams of terror from the Kingdom's army that had been going on for nearly a minute now had suddenly found new company as the 60,000 men of Baharuth joined them in one voice.

Sean struggled desperately to break free of the garlic smelling fog, tripping over several other men suffering a similar trial. The shards of armor buried into his body burned profusely as the gas made contact with his exposed flesh.

His head broke free of the dreaded fog, but when he opened his eyelids, his eyes burned with a searing pain and his vision failed to return. But that didn't matter, his ears were all that were needed to understand what was going on.

Shell upon shell upon shell upon shell upon shell. Each electing a massive thud that traveled through the ground as they smashed into the dirt and armored men. Each shockwave indicated another putrid payload being released.

Their screams were loud. Colic. Infantile.

They were only footmen, they knew nothing of the magic concerning their situation. But that didn't matter because there were two things made immediately clear: The fog kills, and get out of the fog.

And with that knowledge.

Chaos.

The fear and instability garnered by Ainz Ooal Gown had found its outlet.

To those on the ground, the world had turned upside down. It was everyman for himself.

As Sean's vision began to return, several men stacked up behind him, all pushing against each other to get out. He himself was pressed up against another man trying to do the same.

The Empire's formation was tight and orderly to both repel and intimidate the enemy, but in the event of a gas attack, it became a prison. Each new shell that landed brought with it another massive cloud of gas. And every man who died went on to serve as another obstacle for the rest to climb over.

Sean clutched his head and forced his growing dread aside. His lungs burned as he scanned the fields of death.

The fastest way out of the formation would be to flee towards the Kingdom and into no man's land where the massive goats and now Ainz Ooal Gown's army were mobilizing. That was out of the question.

He turned towards the rear, it was his only option.

Death continued to rain down, and he noticed that not all poison clouds were the same color. Some were yellow like what he had been exposed to before, some were a lighter yellow, some were more greenish, and some looked barely visible at all. He had no time to ascertain their different properties however, as far as he was concerned, each of them was death.

Using his height, he found an opening between all the shoving men. He broke away and ran for it. Little did he know that the true horrors of a gas attack take several minutes to manifest.

…

 _So he did show after all!_

Because his super tier magic had not been contested, Ainz had assumed that there were no other players among the kingdom's forces. But now he wasn't so sure.

Gas filled shells fell around him, scattering the human's that were supposed to be offering him support.

 _Demiurge said that there was a chance that Rhamnusia would make an appearance… but the appraisal magic revealed that Gazef was the strongest person here. Could we really be dealing with another player?_

A shell landed mere feet ahead of him. Tiny bits of metal flew into him at near mach speed, but they didn't weigh enough to do any serious damage and were promptly negated by High Tier Physical Immunity.

But it happened so fast that he didn't realise he had been hit.

A wave of yellow gas ruptured forth. "- Mare! Don't breathe it in!"

He was assuming that the gas was some kind of chemical agent and was hopeful that his skeletal biology wouldn't be affected. But Mare was a different story.

However this was a new world and nothing could be known for sure. In that sense, he was actually quite anxious about all the rapid developments around him.

The gas's momentum engulfed them in less than second. He was unaffected but could hear Nimble choke and stumble next to him.

"Mare! Are you alright!?"

The elf's reply was quick. "I'm okay!"

Mare cast some kind of spell and the gas around them was blown away and Ainz was able to see why Mare had been unaffected.

Around Mare's neck was an amulet that kept him surrounded in a bubble of fresh air at all times. The child had never even inhaled the gas in the first place.

With Mare safe, he looked around at the Empire's formation. They were scattering like bees from a smoker.

He could try to blow away the gas, but since shells had already dropped all around and within the formation, it would be impossible to blow it any one direction without having it sweep across some other part of the formation. And since there was currently no breeze as it was, it would probably be best to just leave it alone.

Besides even if he did manage to blow it all away without harming anyone, more shells would come down to replace it as soon as he did so.

 _I suppose I could cast the ninth tier spell [Grand Light Screen] to cover the whole army- What am even thinking?_

The Empire's well being was of no importance to him compared to the likelihood of a hostile player. If he ended up having to do battle with someone, from YGGDRASIL, he would need to be at full strength.

He couldn't afford to waste precious mana on something as meaningless as human life.

The landing of another shell and the dark young approaching them spurred him into action. "Mare, the chances that a hostile player is here is very high. Be on your absolute highest guard."

He gave the mental command for his soul eaters and death knights to advance and scour the enemy lines for the source of the shells. He commanded the dark young currently trampling them to do the same.

His only concern was finding the potential player.

The dark young were unstoppable death machines, but there were only five of them and the Kingdom's army was wide. As such, there would still be many survivors.

The soul eaters fanned out and activated their instant death auras. That way they would be able to buff their speed marginally whenever they killed someone.

Now there would be almost no survivors.

...

Vera's horse had veered off course. It was her fault for trying to buttress the unconscious Stockwell on his own horse.

 _Oh please Gods… Please… I beg you..._

The shadow of a dark young was gaining on her.

It's five massive footfalls mimicked the sound of pair of palpitating hearts, off set and beating in succession. _**Bu-Bu-Bu-Bm-Bm, Bu-Bu-Bu-Bm-Bm, Bu-Bu-Bu-Bm-Bm, Bu-Bu-Bu-Bm-Bm...**_

She flew past a group of retreating soldiers. They were the reserves, footmen. They were not lucky enough to have horses.

 _I'm sorry…_

Their screams were cut short only a few seconds after she passed them. In that way, she was able to judge the distance of the dark young gaining from behind.

Two dark young had been pursuing the king's convoy originally, but when she and Stockwell veered off course, one of the dark young naturally broke off to chase them. That meant that dark young behind them was homing in on them specifically.

Not only would evasive maneuvers be impossible, they would be futile.

They would be turned into a red smear in the grass in a little less than ten seconds.

 _Please… If we were just a little faster…_

The undead fog of Katze formed a great wall ahead of them. If they could cross threshold and get inside the fog, they might be able to hide their life signs and escape.

But it was just out of reach.

She looked out across the plains on either side of her. Not a single soul was moving in the opposite direction, all were moving towards the fog. Like a school of fish being driven towards the shore by dolphins.

Even if individual humans could not surpass the monsters of the world, human society as whole would always triumph. Indeed, as a whole, humanity always prevailed over the demons. That was what was taught in story and religion.

But…

 _...We… We're no longer at the top of the food chain…_

Ainz Ooal Gown was too powerful.

Profound understanding flashed through Vera. She realised that this is what Stockwell must've figured. This creature was simply just killing for enjoyment, there would be no reason otherwise. And there would be no retaliation.

 _Human civilization… humanity… everything. It's all over…_

She could feel the dark young's tentacles sweeping the air around her. As they currently were, they would be dead in about five seconds she estimated. She could try using [Fly] to get away, but that seemed unlikely, and Stockwell would assuredly die as a result.

Her life began to flash before her eyes. Little of it made sense.

She began to question. What compelled her to keep following that madman? Why was there a voice inside of her that kept on telling her to stick around?

 _Why did I ever let him drag me into this nightmare?_

He was insane, and irrational, and morally depraved, and a murderer. He killed everyone she grew up with… so why? For what reason had she allowed herself to be swayed?

Her eyes began to water. It was hopeless. She would need another ten seconds to make it to the fog.

The name "Vera" means faith, but there was no faith here. The Great Gods of humanity have long since forsaken them to their meager fates. There was nothing at all that she could do to prevent her death let alone that of the human race. She would die a fool, nothing having mattered.

What was the point of her existence if this was the end? She _had_ to do something. Anything meaningful at all.

Stockwell shifted next to her.

And time froze.

All was made clear.

Five more foot falls rumbled a breath's length behind her.

Her lips parted painfully. "...Haha… ~I get it now…God. What it is you want me to do…How cruel of you... to create me just for this."

If humanity had any chance at survival at all. Any tiniest, atom of a chance. It was in the man laying next to her.

She felt God's voice, speaking to her deep within. If her existence had any meaning at all, it was in the dedication to the well being of that single human.

"...He always did say that God was cruel."

She placed her hand on Stockwell's and smiled painfully, recalling the right hand rule that he had taught her. [Ferromagnetize]

Her spell was sloppy and uncontrolled as it was, and would be even more so with a large and misshapen object. But all it needed to do was launch him into the fog. A translucent coils of ionized air formed ahead of them. [Coil cannon]

The coils of air lit up with electricity.

Stockwell flew disgracefully from his horse. Tumbling like a ragdoll into the murky depths of the undead fog. He would no doubt find himself with have a few fractures upon waking up. But it was a small price to pay.

"...Good bye, Wesley."

[Fly]

She rose from her horse and turned to meet Death face to face. To lead him astray for a moment, hopefully.

She died shortly after.

...

Bodies! Bodies everywhere!

Bodies, flattened into red messes under thousands of greeves. The dead, dyed green by the poison gas.

That jaundiced, writhing, storm-whirl, stamping upon the senses an indelible, and truly awful memory yet to exist in the natural gamut of experience. The whole world, washed in vomit: fuming, aching, and appalling. Stumbling through that metallic rain and thundering ground; those merciless blasts, caustic and scathing. The dreaded fog, that burns and strangles.

Sean tripped and fumbled, floundering like a man on fire. His breaths were ragged and he retched up bile. He had yet to remove the armor shards buried in his flesh, and while they were there, they kept his own suit of armor stapled to him.

Never could he have guessed that a soldier, aged 40 years and a veteran of two campaigns, could lose his sanity so quickly. Tortured wailing and coughing were all that he could hear, prayers to the fours great gods screamed out into the sky through failing lungs. His only fear was his voice joining that choir of the damned.

He was a courageous person, or at least courageous enough as far as the military was concerned. He always assumed that if the time came, he would gladly give his to life fight off an enemy so that his comrades could get away. To gladly draw his sword and never sheath it again.

But you can't fight a bank of fog with a sword. There were no opportunities for heroism during a gas attack. The only meaningful thing anyone could do was flee. The nature of the attack was once such that the only possible course of action was cowardice.

He did not know or care to know how many men still living men he had trampled over. He would not be joining them.

Guttering, choking, drowning. He wandering within the walls of the prison known as the 5th legion for seconds that seemed like minutes and minutes that seemed like hours. He had seen men, dead men, drunk with fatigue, blind and limping, their senses and wills robbed from them by a series of harmless atoms bonded together in a way never intended by the Great Creator.

Men, gagging on the ground, drowning in their own fluids. With weakened muscles, the armor designed to protect them quickly became the anchors that kept them shackled to the bottom of the vast chlorine swamp spreading waist height across the plains.

Walls of bodies stacked several meters high, escape just on the other side. Men climbing those walls think they can escape, but they are either unobservant, or purposefully ignorant. Faint gas is always lingering in those places that men can see but dismiss in their hysteria for escape, arguing that it such a faint gas can hurt them. Halfway through the climb, they faint, die shortly after, and add to the wall.

By the grace of god or demon, he had avoided shell after shell and the death they mongered. He was near where the very right of the formation had originally been. He saw an opening among the bodies and pushed through.

And then,

All was suddenly very quiet.

The wails were as present as ever of course within the physical world, but to Sean who had acclimated to those, all was suddenly very quiet.

The shells had stopped coming.

The omnipresent being of the Katze plains that controlled it's weather had long sensed the deadly potential of the gas. There were a few areas within the legion that the gas shells were not able to cover, so the undead plains coelessed a light bank of fog and sent it gently over the decimated remains of the empires forces, picking up the gas as it went. This way it could help to kill as many humans as possible and secure as much nourishment as it can.

The breeze elicited a few distant screams, but it did not matter to Sean, he was upwind of all of them and would be safe.

The moment the fresh, wet air hit his face, he broke down into tears. He had escaped from the forward center of the Empire's army on the Black day of Katze, the deepest ring of hell a far as he was concerned.

He could hear stragglers from the Kingdom's army fanning out across the plains and approaching him. Survivors of Ainz Ooal Gown's rampage. It would be laughable to still call them enemies.

For what tragedies that these Devils would assuredly sow next, they would all be brothers in suffering.

…

 _Is this it?_

He had followed his summon's mental directions to a hill far off into the fog behind the kingdom's army. Before him was a soul eater, a deathknight, and about fifty corpses, one of which could still talk.

Ainz figured it may be advantageous to equip his mask.

"You there. What happened here? What are theses things?"

He addressed the cowering human, he lived up to his description as a corpse. His eyes were sunken, and wide with madness.

"T-The m-monster. I-It k-killed-"

"Yes. I get that. I was referring to theses weapons. Was there anyone else here guiding you?"

Littered amongst the bloodied corpses were dozens of tall steel tubes and several stacks of unused shells. He assumed they must've been mortars of some kind.

The man continued to stammer. "E-Everyone was killed... e-everyone..."

Ainz turned away. It was clear he wouldn't be getting any information from a madman.

 _Damn! It seems that the player was never here to begin with. He or she probably just gave them the mortars and left. If that's the case than they're long gone by now. I'll have Demiurge search the battlefield later and-_

"Ainz Ooal Gown!"

He turned to see a party of two behind him. The name of the person who called out to him appeared in his mind.

"...Gazef Stronoff." _...Ah… I nearly forgot about him… it would seem he managed to avoid getting killed._

The look in Gazef's eyes was terribly lost. It appeared that he had witnessed first hand the wanton massacre of the entire army at the hands of the soul eaters. He did not bother with pleasantries. "Ainz Ooal gown… I challenge you to a duel."

Ainz scratched his skull. He had had his day all planned out and hoped to enjoy his nice little reunion with Gazef. But now he just wasn't in the mood anymore.

He didn't bother being very dignified. "Ah-er… Uh. I had originally planned to spare everyone if you became my subordinate… But it seems that things have gotten away from me. I don't have anything to offer you, so what do you possibly have to gain from dueling with me?"

"It's because I am this Kingdom's sword. I-"

Ainz waved his hand, things weren't playing out as glamorously as that had been in his head. He still needed to sort everything out and didn't have time for this. "Yes yes. I'll PvP with you. Just make it quick."

...

Of the 254,000 men brought by the kingdom, 70,000 of them were killed instantly by Ainz Ooal Gown, and another 170,000 died in the resulting rampages of the Dark Young and Soul Eaters. The only ones who survived were those that were lucky enough to avoid the death auras or managed to escape into the fog. Gazef Stronoff was killed by Ainz Ooal Gown personally.

The city of E-Rantel was annexed shortly after.

Over 500 gas filled shells were dropped on the men of the Empire. As a result a total of 3 metric tonnes of mustard gas, lewisite, cyanogen chloride, hydrogen sulfide, phosgene, and chlorine gas were distributed in an area of less than 0.07 square kilometers, leading to the deaths of 35,000 legionnaires in the minutes following the attack.

Of the 25,000 legionnaires to initially escape with their lives, 30% of them were on the peripheries and escaped with minimal to no exposure.

50% would die in the next 48 hours due to acute cyanide and arsenic poisoning after only minor exposure to cyanogen chloride and lewisite.

As for the final 20%, or a total of around 5,000 men, they would die several weeks after the attack due to infections caused by the massive blisters formed on the skin and in the lungs by mustard gas. The empire had no means of curing the condition, and could not deal with the influx of wounded men.

Neither the Baharuth Empire or the Re-Estize kingdom won. It was a net loss for humanity. Over 290,000 men lost their lives as a result of the massacre on the Katze Plains.

* * *

 **Perhaps a little melodramatic? Possibly.**

 **I'll try to respond to the metric boatload of PM's I've received over my absence.**

 **Thank you for being patient everyone.**


	18. Mortal

He awoke soon after.

Though, he was unsure if he actually was awake, it still felt like he was dreaming.

Most notably was the pain in his head. It felt as though it were laying on a blacksmith's anvil, being hammered upon without relent. He could not make sense of himself because of it. He attempted to grab his head, but his proprioception had failed to return and he could not feel his arms.

His vision was blurred and the subjects around him were ill defined. The world appeared to him only as a dark color palette and he could not distinguish where the ground ended and the sky began.

All evidence of him having experienced a truly severe concussion.

His hearing and vestibular system were seemingly the only part of his sensory nervous system, his window into reality, that was spared.

It would seem that his helmet was long gone and that he was laying on his side. He attempted to sit up but had little success, the best he could do was roll over onto his back.

He listened closely to the sounds of the Katze Plains as he waited for his working consciousness to return. Save for the sound of his heart beating in his skull, it was eerily quiet.

There was no wind, no rustling grass, and no voices. Not even the hum of a single insect could be heard. It was the domain of the dead for a reason. And indeed, if it weren't for his faint breathing, then there would really be nothing to distinguish his body from a corpse.

He laid there for an unknown amount of time as the sights and sounds of the imagined Asphodel Meadows played out in his mind.

When his cognitive ability had restored to the point where he could sit up, he did so. He felt something wet and cold running down his forehead and into his eyes. He realised then why it was that his vision was dark and blurry.

 _Blood?_

He went to wipe his face but his arm did not move.

He soon noticed the screaming pain coming from his right shoulder. It was either dislocated or broken but he could not know for sure until he took his armor off. But taking off his armor in his condition would not be as simple as it sounded and would be a herculean task.

He wiped the blood from his eyes using his left hand and his vision returned.

He was not not surprised to see the woefully familiar Katze Plains and its coarse, meager grass. Only now, the fog had gathered so thickly as to obstruct the sunlight making it to the ground. It was as dark as night and visibility only extended a few dozen meters at best.

He attempted to get to his feet but ran into a similar problem as earlier. His right foot had joined his shoulder and screamed at him with pain. It was most certainly broken.

With his good hand, he shook off his gauntlet and began to fumble with his belt satchel. He had disguised himself as one of King Ranpossa's guard and for that point could not bring anything large with him, but he did at least bring some simple necessities.

He opened his belt satchel to reveal a scant few medical supplies. Included among them were a small roll of gauze, a syringe of penicillin, and a small syringe of diamorphine.

He withdrew the diamorphine and injected himself with the entire syringe; a stupidly large dose. The pain plaguing his head body was quickly numbed to an uncomfortable gnawing. It would not heal him, but it would allow him to move.

He rose to his feet. The moment he did so, his digestive system was finally able to adjust itself. A wave of nausea hit him and he vomited out a sickly wad of blood, saliva, and gastric acid.

In a fantastical world with dragons, magic, monsters, and heroes, it was easy to forget how fragile most people really were. And though it was true that even he had a few tenuous abilities, he was still little more than a rickety structure of bones, muscles, and organs. All it took was a good fall to render his body into such a state of injury.

His simple mortality had been well clarified.

He focused on nothing more than standing up straight and letting his body recollect itself. And then finally… after his core and lungs were reminded of their proper functions, and some semblance of a complete person returned, he was able to call out into the fog.

"...Vera!"

But the fog swallowed up his voice completely.

"...Vera!"

They must've been separated in the chaos and had gotten lost in the fog he figured. She would've likely gone back to E-Rantel to rendezvous with him.

Now it came to his less immediately physical predicament.

"...Damn you… Damn you!" He clenched his fist hard.

He needn't have been awake to know Ainz Ooal Gown had claimed absolute victory over him. His mortars would've been nothing more than toys compared to the likes of him.

"Damn you. Damn you, damnyoudamnyou!"

E-Rantel was assuredly occupied by now, but that was the only place he could possibly make it to with his injured foot. He would be forced to sulk back through those gates like some shamed and belligerent child into the Sorcerer King's embrace.

It would be so easy to give up. He had felt like this once before too, when he was being tortured in Aamon's crypt. But even though beaten and broken, he had a fire in him that kept his mind scheming, kept it focused on revenge. And that was because he was a scientist, a rational person who understood that as long as his enemy was a mortal man there would always be a possibility for success.

It had taken all of his strength, meaning, and malice just to get up from Jaldabaoth. But that was it, that was all of it. He was just a man, and a man's will could only extend so far.

But now, certain Death had come for him for twice, and twice he was spared from a meager fate. It was all too clear to him now that the universe would not be allowing him to escape torture so easily. His fate would not be so glamorous, so human.

He would assuredly destroy himself if left alone to his own devices.

He needed to find Vera.

And so, he limped off into the fog.

...

Because the fog had gathered so thickly, the exact position of the sun could not be determined. As a result, the cardinal directions could not be deciphered. And because of the abysmal visibility, distant landmarks could not be used to guide aide in navigation. In that sense, anyone caught unprepared in the fog would be lost on arrival.

Stockwell had simply picked a random direction to travel and tried to stay as straight as possible. His plan was to hopefully run into the tracks of the retreating Re-Estize army and follow them back to E-Rantel.

The fog itself, or whatever life form was controlling it, was not simply just passive being though, operating in accordance to some unknown natural law. It was tactful, and opportunistic. It would not attack large armies that could resist it, that would be a waste of undead. Instead, it opted when able to pick off people who were lost and alone. Especially if they were in a weakened state.

Just because it was busy digesting a very large meal, courtesy of Ainz Ooal Gown and Rhamnusia, did not mean that it would pass up the laughably easy target currently known as Stockwell.

Stockwell saw a figure appear on the edge of his peripheral vision. At first he thought it was a human, but after turning to face, it was clearly a member of the undead.

It was nothing more than a simple skeleton, the lowest possible level of undead, easy pickings for even a copper plate adventurer. It held in it's bony right hand a rusted sword.

Stockwell bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. "Just give me a break will you!" He screamed into the fog as the skeleton clambered toward him.

As per his disguise, all he had with him was a simple sword at his left side. But his dominant arm was unusable, and because of the condition of his foot, he would not be able to outrun the skeleton should he have to flee.

"Come on then you bastard!" He opened his left arm wide as though letting the skeleton in. To say he had plan would be an overstatement.

The skeleton quickened it's pace as it got closer to him. It primed it's sword for an attack. It stepped into range and thrusted hard at Stockwell.

The rusted tip of the skeleton's sword smashed into his breastplate and left a dent before being deflected. It was an idiotic choice of target area all things considered, but that was par for the course when it came to the mindless undead.

Stockwell felt the blow in his chest and just barely managed to keep his balance. He grappled the colar bone of the skeleton with his good hand. He tried to push the skeleton to the ground but even without flesh and muscle, the low level undead managed to resist. _Such strength!_

It was a desperate, inelegant struggle. The kind of ugly fight one would expect to see on Earth, not in the New World. They were fighting well within arm's length of each other.

The skeleton swiped upwards with its sword and cut into Stockwell's exposed underarm. This managed to loosen his grip and the skeleton pulled away, but still within arm's reach. The skeleton clearly had no sense of self preservation fighting in that ridiculously bold manner, but it's not like it cared. It immediately poised for another attack. A slash this time, that would come down on Stockwell's exposed neck.

Stockwell grabbed the sword with his bare hand before the skeleton could swing. He clenched his teeth and gripped hard. His palm bled as the jagged, uneven edge of the rusted blade dug into his flesh. He resisted the skeleton's pull as best he could, but now, the blood from the cut underneath his arm was trickling down his forearm and onto the blade.

If the sword grew slick, the skeleton would be possibly be able to free it so he needed to act quickly. He tried to move his other arm but it did not respond.

He summoned all of his remaining will power and screamed. "RAWWWWW!" He channeled the last of his strength into his broken foot and swept it into his opponent's legs. He successfully knock the skeleton off balance.

As the skeleton was falling, Stockwell seized the opportunity and snatched away the sword. He threw it aside.

But the skeleton still had plenty of strength and was far from done. It grabbed Stockwell's legs on its way down and pulled him down to the ground with itself. All the while Stockwell was trying to get back up, the skeleton clawed at anything it could. Its bony hands creaked against Stockwell's armor. It was an intense struggle.

Stockwell knew not from where his last bit of power came from. He managed to get atop the skeleton and pin its right arm to the ground using his own mangled and bleeding, but still functioning arm. The skeleton's left hand clawed at him and carved a deep red crevasse into Stockwell's face.

"AHHHHHHH!" Stockwell cocked his head back and brought it back down with all the force of gravity. He delivered a devastating headbutt.

The skeleton's skull, having no flesh to shield it and having been pressed up against the ground restricting it from recoiling, received the force of the headbutt in full. Of the two participating skulls, the skeleton's was the one to give way.

Its cranium fractured mildly, but visibly. An evidently decisive blow, and the skeleton ceased its movements.

"...ha ha ha hAHahHAHAHAHAHA!"

He staggered exhausted to his feet. Blood dripped from his face and arm. A massive blue welt was embellished on his forehead.

"HaHahAhAHahHA! IS THAT ALL YOU GOT!?"

His jaw hung low as he drew ragged breaths. His lungs were fighting a losing battle with his brain over control of the diaphragm.

"IS THAT THE BEST THE WORLD HAS TO OFFER ME!?"

Three more silhouettes appeared in the fog.

"YEAH THAT'S RIGHT! COME ON THEN!"

The three forms stepped closer. The meager light filtered through the gaps in their rib cages. The skeletons carried a spear, a bow, and once more, a sword.

"NOW COME ON AND BRING OUT GOWN HIMSELF!"

The skeletal archer nocked an arrow, oblivious to the madman's words. It drew.

"COME ON NOW! I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!"

Then, just as the skeletal archer was releasing its arrow, a shadow appeared. The shadow collided with the bow and the archer's arrow flew off harmlessly into the fog.

The other two skeletons turned to face the new arrival.

Before the archer could recover, the pommel of a sword smashed into its ribs and the skeleton crumbled to the ground.

The shadow maneuvered a little closer and was revealed to be an armored soldier. He was utilizing the half-sword technique; gripping his sword by the blade and wielding it like a club, effectively transforming it into a blunt force weapon to better combat the skeletons.

The skeletal spearman thrusted at him but the soldier deflected it. He drew in close and swung hard, smashing the spearman's collar bone. Then the spearman too, crumpled.

As the soldier did so however, the last skeleton had approached from his undefended flank and went a slash. But the rusty blade glanced harmlessly off the soldier's armor.

Then finally, the soldier swung around and, playing to his body's momentum, delivered the crushing murder-stroke to the skeleton's head. And so too did the final skeletal swordsman crumple lifelessly to the ground.

Stockwell had simply watched the whole affair, silently. His brain, which had been so on gear for confronting the skeletons and nothing more, took a few moment's to adjust.

He had stayed standing exactly as he had been, and the blood dripping from his arm and face had pooled into a small puddle at his feet.

The soldier approached him. Now, with his armor fully visible and it's colors exposed, it was revealed that he was a legionnaire from the Baharuth Empire.

And it was also revealed that the heroic savior too, wasn't in too heroic a condition as well. A wet cloth hung loosely from his face, and before he could speak to Stockwell, he kneeled over and let out a massive fit of coughing.

After he finished disposing of what sounded to be the entirety of his respiratory system, the legionnaire drew in a deep breath. It was ragged and tortured, and as he breathed, his whole body seemingly quivered. In a way, the man who had just dispatched the three skeletons seemed to just barely be holding together.

"Praise be!" He looked over Stockwell.

Stockwell stared blankly at the man. His brain was still in the process of changing gears to be able to converse cogently with the man.

"I'm glad I found someone else alive. I've been wandering in this fog for hours." The legionnaire said, "Wait-" He raised his sword. "You're not a zombie are you!?"

It was a justified worry. Stockwell, standing still and covered with blood, cuts and bruises looked near indistinguishable from a zombie. Let alone the fact that he had not responded to the legionnaire.

Light returned to Stockwell's eyes. "...N-no. I'm human."

"...good, h-hehe." The legionnaire let out a pained laugh and returned his sword to its scabbard.

Stockwell collapsed to ground exhausted, and began to fiddle with his armor.

"… do you…need help with that?"

"Yes, help me get this off..." Stockwell said.

The legionnaire obliged. "Mmm, okay."

He began to help Stockwell with his pauldrons and the armor on his upper and lower arms.

"I'll need to take off my right greave too, my foot is broken and needs a splint."

"Wow, okay. Just let me get this breastplate off," The legionnaire began to lift the piece of armor. He stopped when Stockwell flinched painfully.

"You alright?"

"I think my right shoulder is dislocated."

The legionnaire seemed impressed. "Great gods you're one tough bastard aren't you? You handle pain well, too well. Hold on, lemmie get this off of you."

He carefully lifted the armor away to reveal Stockwell's arming doublet underneath. "Alright, let's get this off too."

As he went about undoing the knots on the doublet, he would sometimes cough and mistakenly jerk Stockwell, he apologized for it but he couldn't do anything about it. Eventually, he undid all the knots and the piece of cloth fell away from Stockwell's body.

"Crap…"

It was a sight to behold.

"Are you… are you sane, man?"

Scars ran all over his chest and back. And these were not the fashionable, manly scars that members of the compliment sex would swoon over. These scars were the kind of scars that ran deep and ugly, the ones kind that no one wished to see. And it was clear from just a cursory glance of the wounds that they had been put there as a result of long and intense torture.

Stockwell looked at his shoulder but could only make out so much. "How does it look?"

"Um yeah…" The legionnaire investigated Stockwell's shoulder. It was more than just dislocated. It had turned a horrendous shade of blue and it was caked with dried blood. Much of the flesh around the area had completely necrosed. "It doesn't look good."

"How not good?"

"The 'If it gets infected you'll lose the arm and needs to see a priest immediately' kind of not good."

Stockwell gestured to his belt satchel. "Open my satchel there, there should be a syringe in it. It's a potion of sorts. It should stave off infection. Just inject in the region that looks most vulnerable."

The legionnaire nodded and found the syringe of penicillin. "A potion that staves *cough*... that staves off infection you say?"

"Yes now hurry up please."

"...if you insist." The legionnaire did as instructed and injected the region with the 'potion'. He then helped Stockwell bend over. "Alright, I'm going to relocate your shoulder now. Brace yourself."

He quickly and cleanly twisted it back in. It was clear that he had had practice doing it before. He was impressed once more when all Stockwell did was release a small yelp. "You really *cough*... you really are a tough bastard."

In truth, the main reason why Stockwell was able to act normally, both physically and even mentally to some degree, was simply because of the obscene amount of diamorphine circulating his body.

He felt a tingling in his fingers and was able to move his hand once again.

He began to wrap up his arms with the roll of gauze he had brought with him.

"You might want to wrap up your face and forehead too. They're also still bleeding." The legionnaire figured that he'd help guide the madman along since clearly he had more injuries than one could count. It also appeared to him by the way Stockwell had been talking to him, that the man was still in a bit of a daze.

He helped Stockwell remove his greave. His foot was certainly broken, but it looked like it would heal in time.

He looked around for something to help splint it with. The problem was, no bushes or trees grew on the Katze Plains so there wouldn't be a stick for miles. They would have to improvise.

"Hold on."

He went to the skeleton that was still more or less underneath Stockwell. He started to shuffle through the now unanimated and disjointed bones. While he was doing so, he noticed the fracture in its skull. He remembered the welt on Stockwell's head and put two and two together. "*cough*... fucking hardcore..."

He found a set of bones that looked like they would work. In fact, they were just the foot bones of the skeleton that seemed the appropriate size.

"Here."

Stockwell nodded and began to splint up his foot with the bones and the remainder of his gauze.

"Great, looks like you're all patched up."

He helped Stockwell put his doublet back on along with some of the more integral pieces of his armor in case more skeletons showed up.

"Now let's get out of here."

…

In a way, the silence of the dead fog was serene. All the two could men could hear was each other's breathing, the legionnaire's coughs, and since the legionnaire was using himself as a crutch for Stockwell, their awkward, three-legged foot falls.

They had limped along in silence for a very long time. Soon they had found some tracks of what looked to be retreating Re-Estize soldiers and began to follow them.

Stockwell eventually broke the silence. "... I suppose I should thank you."

"Yeah… *cough*... don't mention it. It's what any decent man would do."

"But according to your armor, you're from Baharuth, yes?"

"Yes, and according to yours, you're from Re-Estize, royal guard no less." The legionnaire replied. "What of it?"

"...nothing, I guess… nevermind." Stockwell said.

And there was nothing more that needed to be said about it, the war between their two nations.

They limped along in silence once more.

Eventually the legionnaire broke it this time.

"Were you born in the kingdom?"

Stockwell shook his head. "No, Los Angeles."

"Los Angeles? Where's that? A city in the theocracy?"

"No, it's… it's pretty far away. Off continent."

"Off continent ? Wow, first time I've heard about that." The legionnaire examined Stockwell's face. "You look Estizian to me, perhaps a little Slaine, but not so distantly foreign at all really."

"Well, my father was American and my mother was second generation German… so make of that what you will."

"Huh," The legionnaire shrugged as best he could with Stockwell on his shoulder. "So how'd you end up *cough*...end up coming all the way from a different continent and into the ranks of Re-Estize's royal guard?"

"Well, I'm still pretty unsure myself to be honest."

"You're unsure you say?" The legionnaire tried to chuckle lightly, but it was plagued by painful coughing. "... yeah, I guess the gods have a way of doing that."

He waited a moment for Stockwell to continue the conversation by either elaborating or asking him where he too came from, but he did not do so. So the legionnaire took it upon himself to continue the for him.

"As for me, I was born in a village in the Draconic Kingdom." The legionnaire said. "I don't remember much of it since my family had to flee to the capital when I was pretty young. But because of all the other *cough*... other refugees there due to the beastmen, making a living there was pretty difficult for the poor. So I decided to immigrate to Baharuth where I swore loyalty to the emperor and became a legionnaire."

He coughed a few more times before continuing. "It isn't the most glamours of professions I know, but It's honest work. Hoped that maybe one day, when Jircniv got serious about helping the Dracoinc Kingdom, I might be dispatched to reclaim our lost territory from the beast men. Hoped I might be able to see my old village again."

He tried to smile but broke down into a fit of coughing. They had to stop their pace and wait for him to finish. It was a heinous, phlegm filled kind of hacking that would've made most people watching it queasy.

He finished and wiped his mouth with the wet cloth hanging from his face. "...Sorry, the poison is really doing a number on me."

"What did it smell like?" Stockwell suddenly asked.

"Excuse me?"

"The poison gas you breathed in, what did it smell like? And what color was it?"

"Uhh…" The legionnaire was surprised at the strangely specific question, but he was pleased that Stockwell was opening up to him and appeared to be returning from whatever psychological hole he had found him in. "It was sort of like garlic and horseradish. And yellow, very yellow."

Stockwell nodded. "I see…"

The man undoubtedly inhaled sulfur mustard Stockwell thought. Raeven used the mortars after all. The exposed areas of the legionnaire's body and the areas within his lungs would be forming the characteristic blisters in a few hours, and it seemed that the initial damage to the lungs itself was already taking its toll. The man would not me long for this world.

"I consider myself lucky *cough*... I managed to get out of the formation despite all of the exploding gas around me… though…" A lost look appeared deep within the legionnaires eyes. "Though… I'm not proud of fleeing from my comrades who were less fortunate… the ones I passed on my way out who needed help…

I think that perhaps," The legionnaire continued, "That perhaps we all have are moments of weakness. I think that all we can do is *cough*... is repent for our sins and try again."

The legionnaire smiled weakly at Stockwell. "So since you asked the gas, I guess you were paying attention to what was happening on our side huh? You must really be a considerate person if you had enough care to look out for us when you had your own problems to run away from."

He chuckled lightly. An off key preturbment leaked subtly into his voice.

"Hell, I think the theologians are going to be running from this one for a while too, trying to explain it away. End of humans and all that business. You felt that too right? Ainz Ooal Gown and those poison gas bombs, these things aren't natural."

To his disappointment, Stockwell remained silent.

"But hey, we can't let stuff like that *cough*... like that get us down, right? The best we can do is live our lives honestly so hopefully when we die we have a bit of dignity. As long as we preserve our humanity, then humanity will be preserved."

"You're one hell of an optimist..." Stockwell finally said.

"No…" The Legionnaire shook his head. "I'm actually so terrified I can barely move."

Stockwell turned his head to see the legionnaire's body trembling.

"B-Being there, on those plains. Seeing how little difference we made… how nothing I did or ever will do as a legionnaire would matter... to Ainz Ooal Gown, to those poison gas bombs… I knew the world was ending. Those things can not be unseen. I-I thought for sure I was going to-"

He broke once more into a coughing fit, "-thought I was going to die. After we routed, I got lost in the fog."

His body continued to tremble. "I had lost myself for a minute. T-Thank you."

"Thank me? What for?"

"For giving me purpose. I heard you yelling through the fog, and I thought *cough*... thought if I could save just one person from this hell then maybe everything could get better. That there might be hope."

Stockwell remained silent.

"But hey, what would I know about hope? Judging from your scars, you probably know more about despair and picking yourself back up than I do."

The legionnaire adjusted Stockwell on his shoulder. "I mean, just look at you man. You've probably been in this fog for hours fighting skeletons with a shattered foot, no horse, and a gangrenous, dislocated arm. But you're still breathing, so clearly there must be something worth living for."

"...I think you're giving too much credit to my character and not enough credit to human DNA's knack for self preservation." Stockwell finally replied

The legionnaire had a puzzled expression on his face. "...DNA? I don't think I know what that is…"

"Well, of course _you_ wouldn't. I'm not even sure if you're really even homosapien sapien to begin with…"

They remained silent for a very long time after that.

To most, being lost in the silent dead fog would've been an anxiety fueled nightmare. But to the pair of walking corpses, it was comforting.

To the two who for the last hours have been resonating with the dead, the fog provided a tranquil backdrop onto which their mortal foibles could be given clarity.

"Well," the legionnaire finally said, "Regardless of why, I don't think anything but a human could still be walking after all of that. I think that the truth may simply be that living and suffering are inseparable, and what makes us truly human is the pride to accept that truth on this chin and live on anyways."

A loose and sarcastic laugh escaped Stockwell's lips. "Hah haha… you've come to the conclusion that 'living and suffering are inseparable' and now you think yourself a philosopher. Truly your wisdom knows no bounds."

The legionnaire responded with a defeated chuckle. "Well, you're probably right." He shrugged, "All I know is that there must be something about human life that makes it special, more than simply just not dying. Otherwise the immortal undead wouldn't be so envious as to kill us over it."

Stockwell did not reply and after that, and they returned to another long stretch of silence. They had nothing more to listen to but each other's breathing and the beating of their hearts.

"Do you think anymore skeleton's will show up?" Stockwell asked.

"I don't know, what do you think?"

"Probably not."

"Yeah… I feel the same way too." The legionnaire smirked weakly. "I think Katie's given up on us."

"Katie?"

The legionnaire gestured all around him with a sweeping motion of his hand. "That's what I've been calling her."

"Ah, of course it would be a female, otherwise it wouldn't be able devour so many armed men so easily."

"Hehe*cough*hehe... Yeah. She seems to be resting. Probably digesting and doesn't care to gamble anymore skeletons on the likes of us."

Stockwell nodded. They had no way of knowing empirically, but perhaps listening to the fog so earnestly for so long had given them some insight on its nature. It certainly seemed to them from just the way its lazy votresies tumbled and dissipated, that the creature was resting, finally asleep.

The legionnaire spoke quietly, "I think some insane part of me is almost sad to have to say goodbye to her."

Stockwell chuckled and agreed.

Following the tracks, the two of them eventually made it out of the fog.

…

"Praise Be!"

They found a lone horse with no rider standing on the side of the road. The legionnaire gently set Stockwell down and quickly went up to examine it.

It was initially jumpy but the legionnaire managed to calm it. "Woah there girl."

He put his hand on its flank. "Yeah, that's a good girl. Poor thing, she must be from Baharuth."

Stockwell called from where he was sitting, "What makes you so sure she's from the empire?"

"She-" The legionnaire looked the mare over. "Just stay there I'll bring her over to you."

He gently took the reigns and guided the horse over to Stockwell so that he could get a better look. Once Stockwell gave her a cursory glance, it was clear why the legionnaire said that the horse was from Baharuth.

Her breathing was staggered and though it was hard to see, parts of the skin underneath her hair were discolored. And most notably, the horse's eyes were swollen and filled with pus, it was undoubtedly blind.

Stockwell had no doubt that the horse had been exposed to lewisite.

The legionnaire combed her with his fingers affectionately. "You're a tough girl aren't you? Did your rider succumb to poison?"

It could only be assumed that her rider had been exposed to the same gas that had affected her and either died or had been separated because of it.

The legionnaire turned to Stockwell. "You should take her back to E-rantel."

"I should take her…? You mean alone? You're not coming?" Stockwell asked confused.

The legionnaire shook his head. "Just listen to her breathing, she won't possibly be able to carry two grown men. You should probably remove your armor too to make yourself lighter."

Stockwell wasn't sure what kind of expression to make.

"Unlike you, my foot isn't broken," The legionnaire continued, "Once you're gone, I'll be able to move faster without having to support you. And besides, you desperately need to get your arm checked and get your face healed lest you want another scar. It's only right you go on ahead of me."

He helped Stockwell onto the horse.

"I'll get there eventually," the legionnaire said.

Stockwell nodded slowly. "Will you really be alright walking into E-Rantel by yourself, as a Baharuth soldier?"

The legionnaire shrugged. "Hell if I know the current political situation. Hell, I don't even know if Ainz Ooal Gown has actually annexed the place or not. I think you should probably be more concerned than me."

"Perhaps you're right…" Stockwell said.

"Then get out of here already you crazy bastard!" The legionnaire smiled. "She's blind but she's still a genuine Baharuth war horse, the finest the world has to offer. She'll get you to E-Rantel."

The legionnaire gave him one last, weak smile. "Go on then."

Stockwell shook his hand. "Thank you, I hope to find you in E-Rantel."

The legionnaire returned the hand shake and waved him goodbye, and with that Stockwell rode away.

The two had never bothered to exchange names. Such a thing was not necessary between fellow men.

As Stockwell disappeared over the horizon, the legionnaire finally broke down into a truly magnificent coughing fit. He had been holding back for the sake of making his goodbye seem cooler and more stoic.

The mustard gas had no doubt irreparably damaged his respiratory system, let alone the itchy sensation he had soon become to notice everywhere on his body. He doubted his chances of actually making it to E-Rantel.

But if worse came to worse, at least he had saved one person. He would avoid becoming an undead and could die with dignity.

* * *

 **As requested, I'll try to upload shorter chapters but hopefully on a quicker and more consistent scheduled. But as a consequence of that, much of the grammar and structure wont be as labored over and it might not flow as nicely.**


	19. Gasoline

**This is a shorter update. It's a section I had written to go with the next chapter, but had seriously messed up the tone of the whole thing. But I didn't feel like scrapping the whole thing so instead I just figured I'd post it as somewhat of a "bonus" chapter.**

 **It's mainly just crafting/experimentation. As per usual.**

* * *

They all certainly looked real enough, is what Niven thought.

He gazed curiously at the two rows of test tubes. Each tube in one of the rows contained a specific material that had been fabricated through the use of utility magic, and its corresponding control in the other row.

He had cleared out an entire corner of the laboratory just for these set of tests. Personally, he thought the whole ordeal on whether or not the materials were 'real' was a bit nonsensical, but he had nothing if not trust in his master's intuition.

The first materials currently being testing were: ground cumin, salt, water, and soil.

First and foremost on his checklist of confirming the 'physical continuity' of the magically fabricated materials, he needed to determine their chemical compositions.

There were several methods to go about doing this for each of the materials and each method had its own degree of precision when it came to confirming the presence of trace elements. He had on hand several types of pH indicators, bacterial culture gardens, chemical indicators, and even an apparatus that utilized a flame and prism to view the spectral lines of elements.

Unfortunately for him, Stockwell had asked him to be as thorough as humanly possible, which meant that he would not be leaving the lab for quite some time.

"Oh boy…"

It was mostly just busy work. He would much rather help out Faber with the other project which was much more interesting in comparison. However, many of the tests that Stockwell called for were experimental observations made over long periods of time under a multitude of various conditions, and if Niven didn't get the chemical analysis done soon, he wouldn't be finished with the tests by the time Stockwell and Vera got back from the war.

"I guess this is what master called 'the grind'..."

Niven sighed. At least all the busy work was likely increase his job class levels.

...

Niven wrote down on his clipboard.

Not surprisingly, each magical material had acted exceedingly similarly to it's non-magical control.

No major differences were found in the ground cumin seeds. Each sample tested showed a composition of 20.1 - 23.2% proteins, 30.3 - 32.0% carbohydrates, 37.9 - 38.8% fats, 8.1 - 9.2% fibre, 0.9 - 5.2% water, and around 5% inorganic materials.

As expected, the most abundant inorganic elements present in the cumin were phosphorus, potassium, sodium, and iron. All samples also showed trace amounts of manganese, copper, calcium, zinc, and magnesium.

The only notable chemical difference between the fabricated cumin and its non-magical control that he had obtained from a market on the way, was that the magical cumin had slightly lower levels of water.

And ultimately, they both tasted the same as far as Niven could tell.

Next was the salt.

The fabricated sample looked identical to chunk of halite one would expect to find in a quarry, in other words, a nearly pure crystal sodium chloride. Merely nearly pure.

The control was a laboratory made crystal of sodium chloride so it was guaranteed to be pure to within a very tight margin of error. The fabricated sample however, whilst being nearly identical in appearance to the control, did show trace impurities and more variations in its crystal latus.

In Niven's own words, the fabricated salt was much more akin to 'salt' than sodium chloride. Though admittedly their chemical compositions were basically identical.

It was much the same story with the water.

The control was a sample of distilled water, so Niven was reasonably confident that it was almost pure H2O and whatever atmospheric CO2/Carbonic acid that dissolved into it. Its measured pH in all samples was consistently around 6.5.

The fabricated water on the other hand showed a plethora of other ions in it. He was easily able to confirm the presence of potassium, magnesium, calcium, sulfate, bicarbonate, and chloride. All were common ions one would expect to find in a natural body of water such as a well or river, and as a result, its pH hovered around 7.

Curiously though, he found no traces of living bacteria.

Indeed, it was also true for all of the other fabricated materials. He found microbial life in none of them, including the ground cumin which is by definition chock full of organic molecules.

This fact was most clearly illustrated in the sample of soil.

Soil by its very nature, is chemically diverse. It serves as a porous medium for plants, animals, and bacteria to exchange nutrients and is constantly exposed to weather and erosion. So even though more than half of it is generally made from aluminates and silicates, the rest of its chemical composition is dependent on its local climate and ecosystem.

Naturally, being the diligent student he is, Niven had done the best he could to create a comprehensive analysis on the fabricated soil.

The soil had been created by a magic caster operating out of E-Rantel, and as a result, it closely mimicked the more fertile farmland soils of the region that he had taken the control sample from.

Like the control, it showed strikingly similar concentrations of clay, silt, sand, and water, and it even had all of the same organic nutrients one would expect of fertile farmland.

But of course, as with the other materials, absolutely no traces of bacterial or fungal life were present. Which was almost perplexing considering that many of the nutrients in the soil came about ecologically as a result of microbial action.

Niven mulled it over and made several check marks on the clipboard.

His master had a completely different scientific background than he did and was an alien to their world. He could only guess as to what kind of theories Stockwell would make upon seeing the data.

At the very least though, Niven had his own set of ideas as to why there was no microbial life in the samples. He wasn't too sure since he knew little of the actual mechanics behind magic casting, but he had theories nonetheless.

He went about writing the report on his findings.

After he finished, he then began to set up for the next part of the grander experiment.

Because so far, regardless of their lack of microbial life, the magically fabricated materials reacted to his tests with complete chemical continuity.

That is, he had been able to deconstruct the materials down to their constituent parts and confirm that there were indeed made of atoms, such as turning the fabricated water into normal molecules of hydrogen and oxygen gas.

But all that work thus far was simply preliminary work to what his master was really interested in.

E=mc^2

According to that rule, anything that has mass has intrinsic in it an enormous amount of energy.

It simply wouldn't make sense from a universal standpoint that someone like a first tier magic caster who couldn't cast the third tier spell [Fireball], which could only deliver around 10 megajoules of energy if one was estimating generously, could create a 5 kilogram bucket of water out of thin air which has in it an intrinsic energy of 449,377,589,368 megajoules.

The only two immediately satisfying explanations for this would be that the utility magic spells simply summon the material from some other place in the universe, or that the material they create is in someway not "real" matter.

The first hypothesis seemed unlikely, since similar utility spells are used to create objects which have been personally thought up of and designed by the caster at the moment of casting the spell. In other words, they couldn't have been stored in a different location or some kind of cosmic bank ahead of time.

So ultimately, the main part of Niven's assignment was in determining on weather or not the strong and weak nuclear forces acted normally.

Obviously they didn't have a nuclear reactor in Moot Village, but the could still do some experiments with what they had on hand.

Niven went off into the storage room and returned with a small chunk of black ore. It actually wasn't too rare a substance, occurring naturally all around the world, and in some places it was even common. But since it had little use, miners generally considered it an obstacle to get around. It was called pitchblende.

Stockwell had correctly identified it as uraninite ahead of time. It was mildly radioactive, producing small amounts of beta particles, alpha particles, and even occasionally, some free neutrons.

It didn't need to cause intense nuclear reactions within the nuclei of the fabricated materials, all it needed to do was mess with them a little. Just enough to remind them that the strong and weak nuclear forces existed.

Niven went ahead and placed the sample of fabricated cumin along with its control in an opaque black box with the chunk of uraninite.

He locked the box and brushed of his hands triumphantly.

He'd come back to check on the samples in a few days.

…

Niven stepped outside of the lab and felt the brisk morning fog coalesce on his skin. He looked up to see dark gray clouds forming on the horizon. The winter rains were returning to Re-Estize.

He smiled cooly as he strolled through the village towards Faber's workshop. The villagers were preparing for their final harvest before the cold came in.

He looked off in the direction across the lake. All of the potentially explosive materials being made were isolated over there, away from the village. That included the most recent structure he's helped to make: a steel construct for distilling petroleum.

It was actually a rather small structure, only really large enough to separate half a barrel of crude oil a day, but that was more than enough for what they currently needed.

His smile brightened when he heard a series of rough, uneven mechanical popping noises pierce crisply through the fog. The rate of the pops quickened. They accelerated to the point at which they no longer sounded like a disjoint series of sounds, but blended into a low pitch.

It was the characteristically haunting roar of a truly remarkable piece of machinery.

The prototype "internal combustion engine."

Niven giggled lightly to himself. It was always the case that just when it seemed like Stockwell's ideas had peaked, he would turn around and pull something like that out.

A loud bang sounded and the mechanical roaring slowed and died. Faber's cursing quickly followed.

"-what is it now you piece of shit!?"

Niven rounded the corner and called out to the man. "Hello!"

Faber stood over the prototype engine. He was covered head to toe grease and held in his hand a rag drenched in oil and unspent gasoline.

He turned his head away just enough to address the new arrival. "Hey there, how ya doin' kid?"

"Good, thank you. Just finished up a project for Mr. Stockwell. I see you're still having trouble with the engine."

Faber stepped back and rubbed his neck. "Everytime I fix one thing two other things break."

"Have you tried turning it off and on again?"

"Excuse me?"

Niven laughed and shrugged. "I don't know what it really means. It's just something that master says as a joke whenever I complain that something isn't working."

Faber smiled defeatedly. "Is that so… You wouldn't happen to know what he says when someone is complaining about a cylinder that keeps backfiring?"

Niven approached the engine. It was truly a remarkable piece of machinery.

It was a complex system of steel tubes and valves roughly 1.7 meters long and a meter high. Two parallel rows of six inline cylinders jutted upwards and outwards in a "V" shape, giving it an almost alien appearance that Niven could only describe as a giant metal carapace. It also weighed in excess of 350 kilograms so it was currently being supported above the rough turf on a pair of steel struts.

A shaft distended outwards from the engine and connected to a series of large, gears, levers, and weights called a dynamometer. It had been used before to test their steam engine.

"How much power is it putting out now?" Niven asked.

The blacksmith's demeanor suddenly changed at the mention of power. A strange and childish laughter welled up deep inside the man's chest. "Double since I fine tuned the distributor timings and changed the firing order yesterday."

"Double? You mean…" Niven trailed off.

A wild glint appeared in the back of Faber's eyes. "Two, _hundred,_ horses."

He placed his hands large hands on Niven's shoulders. "We were all so infatuated with steam, but this is where the true power is at! At 1,800 rpm I can fit the power of two, _hundred_ horses inside this little box!"

Niven couldn't help but resonate with the man's childishly gleeful tone. He giggled with him.

"And that's only half the theoretical!" Faber continued. "Just imagine what kind creatures we could animate with a heart like this!"

He coughed into his fist and cleared his throat.

He chuckled and calmed himself. "That is of course, when it's all functioning properly. I've had no shortage of back firing in one of the cylinders all morning.

Niven smiled and crouched down to examine the engine. "I see… Are you sure it's just one of the cylinders that's backfiring?"

Faber scoffed. "Hell if I know. The actual cause could be any number of things. The carburetor not mixing in enough air, the piston ring failing to fully seal the cylinder, a faulty spark in the distributor… though, if I need to be honest, I suspect that the fuel is likely the chief offender right now."

Niven seemed offended. "Huh!? But why…the mixture is as energetic as I could possibly make it."

"I don't think that's the problem kid," Faber scratched his beard, "I think what's happening is that the fuel is igniting before the spark is able to set it off. And I doubt it's the timing's fault. I suspect that it's the compression. That the fuel is too volatile and sometimes isn't able to be compressed to top-dead-center without igniting."

Niven paused and put his hand to his chin in contemplation. "Hmm… compression… but couldn't the same problem be caused by the carburetor? Maybe it's pushing in too much or too little air?"

Faber shrugged and gestured behind him to a large piece of parchment splayed out on the back of his workshop's wall. On it were many detailed cross-sectional disections of the internal combustion engine that the blacksmith had done his best to replicate.

However, while Stockwell did have a generally good understanding about how most things worked, he was still only human and couldn't perfectly remember the exact shape and contour of every single piece in a machine that boasted so many moving parts.

He at least made sure to leave detailed captions as to the nature and design of each of the engine's mechanical systems. All written in English, of course. Stockwell hadn't nearly the amount of vocabulary necessary in Re-Estize script to do the engine justice otherwise.

Niven had done his best to translate what he could, but there were still a few sections that the needed to guess at.

Faber directed Niven's attention to the drawing of the device that mixed the fuel and the air together before sending it down the intake manifold. Its name in English was "Carburetor". Several sections of the diagram were left blank.

Faber put his finger on a string of English letters that he assumed referred to the precise regulation and ideal ratios of air-fuel mixing.

"What's it say, kid?"

Niven sounded out the words on his tongue. English was a terribly hard language to learn since even though it was spoken exactly the same way as his own, there was curiously no phonetic consistency between it's sounds and letters. This was also quite frustrating since he had had many futile arguments with Stockwell who argued the complete opposite; that it was Re-Estize script that made no phonetic scene.

"This word here is means sort of means to 'discover' or 'determine', and it's followed by a phrase that means to 'do away with' or 'to be without'..."

Niven frowned, "... I think it just saying 'Figure it out yourself'."

Faber exhaled and stretched his joints in a series of cracking noises. "I figured as much."

"I'll see if I can create a fuel that's more compressible." Niven said, "I know octane is pretty good at being compressed, but pure octane probably won't do well in the engine… hmm, we'll need to do some experimenting to see which alkanes the best compression ratios and in what proportions. This will probably take a while…"

Faber laughed lightly. "I look forward to the challenge."

* * *

 **Next chapter will be out very soon.**


	20. The Five Stages

The horse had to stop several times on the road to E-Rantel, but it was still much quicker than walking on a broken foot.

It had grown dark on the way so Stockwell felt it necessary to rest for the night. They arrived at the gates of E-Rantel the next morning. By then more than 24 hours had past since the Katze massacre and Ainz Ooal Gown's forces were well within the city. The sky hung overcast, dark and grey, no doubt alluding to the hearts and minds of the people within.

He and the dying mare he rode on collapsed to the ground just outside the gate house.

"We have another another one!" He heard someone call from the gate house. "He's badly wounded! Get the priest!"

He hadn't had a single thing to drink or eat in more than day, and, while that normally wouldn't be too big of a deal under normal circumstances, Stockwell had been bleeding and puking non stop during those last 24 hours. Needless to say, he was severely dehydrated and his consciousness was flickering in and out.

He tasted the dry dust on the surface of the road as he heard the footsteps of two men race towards him.

One of them lifted his body up and examined him. "Hey man, stay with me." Stockwell looked into the man's concerned gaze. Surprisingly, he actually recognized him. It was the guard that was usually stationed at the gate he always took to get into the business district of the city. Normally he wouldn't have been stationed at the front gate.

The guard turned and called back to the gate house. "He needs water!" He then spoke to the other man who was now examining the horse. "How is it?"

"She's been poisoned like the others, she must be from the empire. She's in a terrible amount of pain. Doesn't look like she'll make it."

Stockwell heard the man pat the horse tenderly. He spoke very softly. "You did good making it all the way here girl." From the way he had said it, Stockwell could tell that the man had his head pressed up against the mare's. "You can take a good long rest now."

The guard spoke to the man, "Is there still room for her out back?"

"Yeah," the man replied, "I'll find a nice spot to bury her with the others. How's the little solider boy doing?"

"He doesn't appear to have been poisoned. And his doublet isn't the standard one that the legionnaires wear. He's definitely one of ours. He's got the works, cuts, bruises, big gash in his face, looks like his foot is all splinted up. Also take a gander at his arm."

Stockwell heard what sounded to be the other man taking in a startled breath. "Woah, the thing looks like it's going to fall off."

Stockwell's vision started to blur over. The guard patted him in the face. "Hey, focus stay with me, the priest is almost here."

As if on cue, he heard the footsteps of a third person approach. "What's he got?" the priest asked.

"He's got the works."

"I see."

The priest put something to Stockwell's lips. "Drink."

The moment the cool fluid touched his throat, Stockwell's mind gained clarity.

"This should reviatalize him." The priest cast a simple spell on him.

It was a very low tier healing spell, but to Stockwell who had known nothing but exhaustion and injury for the last day and night, it felt as though energy was coursed into every crevasse of his body.

He coughed and groaned, but did so in manner that suggested he was feeling better. He tried to shuffle to his feet.

The priest placed his hand on his chest to stifle him. "Don't move just yet, I'm going to patch up your arm a little."

He began to cast another spell but Stockwell clasped the priest's wrist. "...no, my foot..."

The priest exchanged a look with the other two men. He looked back down to Stockwell. "You are not the only injured man to come through here and my and my colleagues mana is limited. We're really only obligated to use one spell, but I'm making an exception for you since it looks like your arm can still be saved."

Stockwell shook his head. "...no, my foot…"

"Your foot will heal in time, but your arm needs to be treated now otherwise it will have to be amputated."

Stockwell continued to hold onto the priest's wrist. "...To hell with the damn arm. I need to see someone as soon as possible, I need my foot…"

The priest exchanged another look with the men. He clicked his tongue. "Fine then."

Stockwell let go of his wrist and the priest cast his spell.

Energy flowed through his body and he felt his foot begin to mend. After the priest was finished, the other two men helped him stand to his feet.

If the men of the kingdom could afford this much charity for the likes of him, then surely E-Rantel must not be in too bad a state.

Stockwell nodded to the three of them, "Thanks-"

Now that his mind was hydrated and his body sufficiently resuscitated, he could now finally begin to interpolate the environment. His eyes fell to thing standing guard at the gatehouse.

"Don't worry, it won't attack so long as you don't attack." Though the others said as much, they too had let no small amount of doubt leak into their voices.

Stockwell's eyes remained transfixed on the hulking 2 meter frame of the undead guard. It was so much different seeing it up close than across the battlefield at Katze. Once exposed to the shear violence and hate radiating to from the Death Knight's eyes, it certainty was doubtful to assume that it would not attack.

The others gently pushed him towards the gate. "It's okay, we're still alive right?"

Stockwell gulped in his throat. His foot still ached but it didn't seem to be nearly as damaged as before. It would be taxing, but at least he would be able to walk on it without having abuse an opioid.

He limped slowly around the Death Knight and into the city.

...

It was an arduous walk to his E-Rantel residence in the administrative district.

The city had transformed so completely in it's 24 hour occupation that it would have been unrecognizable if it weren't for the fact that all the buildings had remained the same. The citizens of the once proud and bustling city were reduced to huddling in their homes in the same manner which nocturnal insects scattered for cover when a flashlight is cast upon them.

Death Knights and Soul Eaters roamed freely through the abandoned streets. It was obvious now why all the guards within the city had been stationed outside. No soul would dare cause a ruckus with such monsters breathing down their necks.

The only company he had on his walk were the eyes of the destitute and hungry, staring at him from the cloistered alleyways.

A small drop of water hit his face.

Soon, it was trickling.

Then, it was raining.

Strange emotions welled up inside him.

By the year 2138, rain was a dangerous thing. In the polluted city of Los Angeles where he had grown up, the rain's acidity had reached a point to were it it could be felt on the skin afterward. No sane mother would ever let their child go out to play in it.

But even so, he had always wished to play in the rain, in the way that the children in the old stories and movies used to. To smell the intoxicating petrichor, to feel its revitalizing touch, and to lose oneself in the deafening hum of raindrops that flooded the mind and drowned its follies.

In a way, the abandoned streets of E-Rantel mimicked closely the rainy, deserted sidewalks of 2138 Los Angeles. The hopeful child who once occupied his body would have leaped at the opportunity to take Stockwell's place.

But that child was gone and only the weathered husk of a man remained.

This rain did not bring joy. It was heavy and cold. It hammered and oppressed. Water seeped into his tattered clothes and weighed him down. He dragged his injured foot lifelessly through puddles.

To where had his capacity for joy gone? Had it perished with his innocence? Was it killed when he had dropped mustard gas on it? Or when he had smothered it with chlorine? Or was it when he had blown it up with hydrogen gas, or electrocuted it, or thrown capsaicin on it, or headbutted it, or shot it, or stabbed it?

The rain continue to fall, and it did not relent. His breath grew labored, and ragged. Despite his foot's protest, he continued his mortal limp towards the administrative district. He passed through the other two gate houses.

His fog induced reprieve from psychosis had long since washed away, leaving behind only a crusty residue of malcontent. The reality of Ainz ooal Gown's absolute triumph over him was all to clear.

He made it to his door.

He tried to open it but it was locked. The knob made a metallic crunching sound as he tried to turn it; it would not budge. His key had been lost along the way to E-Rantel along with the rest of his gear.

All he had with him at the moment were the soaked, tattered clothes on his back.

He knocked on the door. "...Vera!"

If he could regroup with her then perhaps she could make some miracle happen with her magic. Perhaps she could devise a plan to defeat the demons plaguing him.

He knocked several more times. "...Vera! It's me!"

But no sounds came from the door.

His body shivered uncontrollably in the cold air. He continued to knock, his heart was starting to tear. "...Please! Open up!"

More seconds passed.

His eyes darkened. Vera must've gone back to Moot Village.

As he turned away, the lock on the door made a sound.

He turned back. "Vera?"

The door creaked open. "Wesley-san?" It was a man's voice.

Upon seeing Stockwell, the man on the other side swung the door open. "Wesley-san! You're alive! I had feared the worst!"

Stockwell looked on in lost silence. Vera looked and sounded exactly like Marquis Raeven.

"Gods what happened to you!? Hurry, come inside, you're soaking wet."

He walked slowly into his residence like a man being dragged by puppet strings. He was mystified. "..-How.."

Raeven closed the door behind him. "Make room by the fire for him."

There were two others in the room. Stockwell recognized them as Mayor Rettenmaier and the merchant Baldo Lauffray. They were staring at him bewildered. They almost couldn't believe that the broken and wet man dressed in rags and covered in wounds was the proud Grey Wolf they had met with to before.

"W-What… H-How…" Stockwell was struggling to form words.

"You gave me a key, remember?" Baldo replied. "Raeven-dono just came back from the battlefield and Rettenmaier-san was just kicked out of the mayoral building."

"We thought it best we lay low here until Ainz Ooal Gown decides what he wants to do next." Rettenmaier said. "Raeven-san just came by to-"

"Where's Vera?" Stockwell interrupted.

Raeven locked the door and returned to the center of the room. "I assumed she would be with-"

"-Vera!" Stockwell called out into the house. No reply came.

Rettenmaier and Baldo stood from where they were sitting by the fire. "Wesley-san, are you okay-"

Stockwell ignored Baldo and called out once more. "-Vera! Are you here!?" He quickly went to a door on the other side of the room. He tried to open it but it would not budge.

"Oh, that door is locked. The key you gave me didn't-"

Stockwell turned away and disappeared into the kitchen area.

The three other men exchanged worried glances as they heard the sounds of several pieces of ceramic being smashed to the floor.

Stockwell returned moments later holding a key.

He unlocked the door and entered. He did not bother to close it all the way behind him.

...

Inside was a small laboratory.

It was nothing more than a few jars of misplaced chemicals on a workbench along with a couple of simple apparatuses. The first thing he went to was the storage closet. He dug around the loose papers and scraps until he got his hands on a magic scroll.

He layed it open on the workbench and looked at the markings. Specifically, he looked at the black outline of a circle in the center. Vera had designed it as a distress signal. If she was in trouble, she could cast a simple spell from anywhere in the world and the circle would immediately fill in. She would cast the spell if she ever got into a postion where she could no longer contact him.

The circle wasn't filled in.

That meant one of two things. Either she was safely back in the Kingdom or Moot Village, or she was-

Stockwell fished around underneath the workbench until he found a small box. A dysfunctional radio.

He went about disassembling it and dissecting all of the relevant pieces out of it. Then, went about assembling those pieces into a barebones transceiver. He closed the pair of wires acting as the power switch, but It wouldn't turn on.

"...Damn it… It's always the batteries."

He went back the storage closet and fished around some more. He pulled out a hand crank generator.

After wiring it up he turned the crank laboriously. The gearings in the crank were such that it was difficult to turn and made a terribly loud whirring sound.

The transceiver stutterd to life with a faint buzz. It was possible that the thunderstorm outside and the myriad electric fields it was creating were messing with the transmission. The reception was particularly fuzzy.

He methodically turned the the knob to all of their known frequencies.

"This is Wesley, come in, over…"

Vera's personal radio was offline. No reply.

"It's Wesley, come in, over…"

Re-Estize residence was offline. No reply.

"Come in, over…"

E-Pespel residence was offline. No reply.

"Anyone there?..."

E-Pespel foundry was offline. No reply.

"Are you listening boy? Come in, Niven?..."

The main transmitter in Moot Village was online, but no one had replied to his message.

His head fell shakily to the workbench, "... is anyone… out there at all…?...please..."

A faint buzz emitted from the transceiver.

" _... bzzzz… -e-llo? ...bzzzzz… s...thi...Stockwe…?"_

It was coming from the transmitter in Moot.

Stockwell raced to the transceiver. "Yes! Hello? Who is this!?"

" _...bzzzz… frequen...bzzzz...you-r….clear…"_

He quickly dialed in the knob on the transceiver. "Hello? Am I coming in?"

" _...yes...bzzzz…-old on…"_

The transmission shut off for several seconds. It reappeared there after, its signal now came in much clearer.

" _...Hello? Is this ...bzzz… do you read me? Over."_ Stockwell recognized the scruffy voice.

"Yes! I read you clearly Mr. Faber. Is Vera there with you? Over."

" _...You're coming in a little hazy Mr. Stockwell...bzzz…it's a hard to hear your-"_

The blacksmith's voice was suddenly replaced.

" _...Hi master! What's going on? Mr. Faber and I were working on some stuff and I needed to ask a few questions. Over."_

"Hold on, Niven! I need to know where Vera is! Is she there with you? Over."

The transmission took several more moments to re engage. What sounded like puzzled deliberation came from the other side.

" _...what did he say…?... I think he was saying something about miss Vera...bzzzz… I don't know if he can hear us… ask him loudly this time…bzzzz… It's hard to hear you master! What did you just ask!? Something about miss Vera!? Over!..."_

Stockwell put his palm to his face and breathed deeply. He could hear them crystal clearly and couldn't even bring himself to chuckle.

He talked into the transceiver slowly and deliberately. "Vera… Vera, where is she? Over."

More seconds of silence passed. " _...I think he's asking where the lass is… I thought miss Vera was with him though?... Bzzzzzzzz..."_

It was a very long buzz.

" _...I don't know were miss Vera is… shouldn't she be with you? Over."_

Stockwell slumped over soundlessly onto the workbench. He tapped lightly together the wires on the transceiver. "...yeah… she should be…over…"

" _...what did he say?... let's try-"_

His arm slid lifelessly away from the workbench, dragging the transceiver to the ground by the wires. The transmission died.

"...~ha ha… this isn't happening…"

He was losing everything again and it was entirely out of control.

His head was growing dizzy.

He needed to think of something. Needed to distract his mind. To stay away from that thought, any thought but that one. Under no circumstances should his mind be allowed to go there.

He shakily got to his feet. His chest was feeling much tighter than normal.

What was this? He thought. His chest was feeling much _much_ tighter than normal. It felt felt like it wasn't even his.

Yes. Exactly! He thought. Surely his chest must have just been replaced with some other person's, because otherwise it would mean that the chest currently tightening was his own. And if his chest was tightening, that would indicate that he was grieving.

But there was no reason to be grieving since everything was perfectly fine. No problem whatsoever.

Yes! He thought. The reason why his fingers were currently digging into his chest so deeply that they were turning blue was simply because some invisible demon had snuck in and magically grafted another person's chest to his body, and this was his immune system's way of countering the threat.

It was just his body being perfectly reasonable he rationalized. Just an everyday occurrence. Nothing to indicate that anything was going wrong at all.

That must also be why he suddenly found himself on the floor and hyperventilating, he reasoned. After all, a large area of the torso being replaced would assuredly to result in some abdominal irregularities.

And that too must be why water was now coming out of his eyes. After all of the injury and dehydration he's sustained, his amygdala and hippocampus must surely be strained and sending erroneous messages to his lacrimal system. There is simply no logical explanation why his tear ducts would be wasting valuable water otherwise.

Yes, all of his sudden symptoms could be explained by plain and simple physiology.

He wasn't in denial. He thought. That would imply that there was something to be in denial about. And there was nothing to be in denial about.

...

Baldo put his hand on Raeven's shoulder. "He's been in there a while, maybe you should check on him."

They tried to peer into the room but the door was only marginally ajar and was obstructing their view.

"Are you kidding me? Did you see the look on his face?" Raeven protested. "I'm not going in there."

Rettenmaier got up from where he was sitting and looked at the door along with the other two. "Who was this 'Vera' he was looking for? Do you know her, Raeven-san?"

"Yeah, I've met her a couple of times, but I never really talked with her. She's his mistress…" Raeven paused, "Actually, I'm not quite sure what their relationship is but I know they care for each other a lot."

"Is she pretty?"

Baldo and Raeven rolled their eyes at Rettenmaier.

"Yeah, she's pretty." Raeven said. "She doesn't dress well, but looks good when she does. Though I think she must've lost an eye at some point, I've only ever seen her with an eyepatch."

"Doesn't dress well? I thought that Wesley-san was well off though."

Raeven shrugged. "You can never know with magic casters, they're all eccentrics."

"Oh, so she's a magic caster?"

"A skilled one at that... I think." Raeven replied. "I don't know where he managed to find one so young, but she certainly wasn't an adventurer in the kingdom. She flew in after Wesley-san when he attacked Jaldaboath during the demonic disturbance and rescued him with Momon's help."

Rettenmaier's eyes widened. "Oh so that was him! I thought I heard about something like that."

Baldo nodded, "Yeah, I heard the same thing too, it's definitely true. The man's not all there in the head."

"I'm inclined to agree, hence-" Raeven gestured to the door. "-why I'm not too eager to go in there and check on him."

In a way, Stockwell's eventful arrival was a gift. It provided enough distraction for them to temporarily get away from their own, more personal dilemmas concerning Ainz Ooal Gown's occupation.

Marquis Raeven especially. It had been more than 24 hours since the slaughter, but that was still much too short for his delirium to go away. He had lost too many of his men and had seen too many crushed under the foot of the dark young.

Any distraction was a good distraction.

The only reason why he was still in E-Rantel was because he had needed to sign the formal surrender of the city as commander of the armies before heading back to the capital.

"Did you see that mark on his face?" Baldo asked.

The other two nodded.

"What do you suppose happened to him? You said he wasn't at Katze, right? Raeven-san?"

Raeven stared at the slightly ajar door. "Yeah… I know what I said, but… I'm not so sure. It's certainly possible… probable even, if he's associated with who I think he is. If lady Vera was there with him…"

Raeven gulped. "...surely not."

He approached the door.

The other two watched him closely.

"Wesley-san?" He inched closer to the door. "Are you okay?-"

"AAAAHHHHHH!"

Stockwell's enraged yell pierced through them. It was followed by the sound of several pieces of glass being thrown to the floor.

They did not know it from where they were, but Stockwell had smashed all of the chemical jars in the laboratory.

It was a rare moment to hear someone so pathologically enraged. The yell that the enraged person made resonated in some deep place within the body of the one hearing it and monopolized the entirety of their attention, and in that way, one instantly understood the depth of the other's pain.

It was one of the many mechanisms that the ground dwelling hominids known as humans had evolved to communicate with each other.

Raeven and the others fled from the door.

They heard another enraged yell followed by the sound of choking.

Stockwell came crawling out of the laboratory moments later holding his throat. His wanton destruction of the lab materials had kicked up a cloud of toxic chemicals.

"W-Wesley-san! What happened!? Calm down!"

He coughed out the last of his lungs and climbed to his feet. Broken glass hung from bloody cuts in his chest.

His face was bright red. "W-Who… who are you!? What are you doing in our house!? How did you get inside!?"

His eyes were darting wildly from Raeven to Baldo to Rettenmaier.

"Wesley-san! It's me, Marquis Raeven, your friend! And Lauffray and Mayor Rettenmaier."

"Mayor rettenmaier!?" Stockwell screamed and Rettenmaier went still. "He's no mayor! he's letting a monster march other monsters through his city! he's… he's..."

"Wesley-san calm down!" Baldo pleaded.

"-And will everyone please stop using those incessant Japanese honorifics!?"

"J-Japane-?"

"No one here is from Japan or speaks Japanese or has even heard of Japan! Who even are you Baldo!? Are you just some spy working for Demiurge!? I always thought it was just too convient that you happened to be in that office that day!"

Baldo froze up. "...Wesley-san… you-"

"Calm down man!" Raeven screamed. "We're all friends here! You're not in the right-"

"MARQUIS RAEVEN! I ACTUALLY SORT OF LIKED YOU! BUT YOU BETRAYED ME!"

Raeven was helplessly lost. "But, Wesley-san… I don't understand, I never betrayed you-"

"THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!?"

"W-wha-"

"HOW COME YOU'RE HERE TALKING TO ME WHEN VERA-" Stockwell choked and stumbled. "IT SHOULD'VE BEEN YOU! WHY DIDN'T YOU SACRIFICE YOURSELF!? YOU'RE GREEDY AND CONCEITED, JUST LIKE THE REST OF YOUR KIND. ALL OF YOU DAMN NOBLES! ALL OF YOU NEED TO BE GASSED!"

Raeven looked as though he received a punch to the chest. Hurt was in his eyes.

Stockwell swung his injured arm around. "All of you are just sitting here doing nothing! Have you no pride as humans!? You neanderthals!... no, you… you homosapien magitheus'! Get out!"

He seethed and the three men funneled towards the door.

"All of you! You wastes of evolutionary garbage! Get out! Get out! GET OUT!"

The three men fled out the door and into the rain.

Stockwell stood still in the center of the room and breathed in and out heavily.

Several seconds of silence passed until someone came back to close the door.

It was Baldo. He poked his head back in. A somber expression was on his face. "...I'll come back tomorrow once you've calmed down."

He closed the door.

Stockwell continued to stand where he was, frozen like a statue. He stood like that for seconds, and then minutes, and then hours.

All as has blind rage slowly seethed away. Drop by drop.

The cuts on his chest clotted, and his bleeding stopped.

Eventually, his legs gave out on their own accord and he collapsed to the floor. He couldn't deluded himself any further. A small part of him had known all along why she hadn't shown up.

And for the first time in a very long time, he cried unreservedly.


	21. Immaculate God

Three days had past, and she had not shown up.

God had not responded to his prayers no matter what he bargained in exchange.

For three days he had not eaten. And for three days he had sunken into a deep depression.

Raeven had needed to return to the capital as soon as possible, and Rettenmaier had never bothered to come back after the display that Stockwell had shown him.

The only one who bothered to check on him was Baldo Lauffray, who also always brought an aide along.

Baldo opened the curtains wide and the morning sun filtered through the windows. "You need more light in here, Mr. Wesley."

Holy light scathed the dried remains of misery littering the room and threatened to cleanse whatever soul it touched.

The withered scientist recoiled from the harsh light. "You're not my mother Lauffray..."

"-Don't move." The maid attending to his wounds moved him back into place on the table. She resumed her work of carefully replacing the bandages around his right arm and shoulder.

Baldo addressed the maid. "What's the condition of his arm?"

The maid shook her head. "The flesh is not healing properly and he has no feeling in his fingers. Since he isn't eating it's sapping all of his strength. The longer it stays on him the more at risk he is. It needs to be removed soon unless he finds help."

Stockwell scoffed tiredly. "What kind of half baked diagnosis was that…?"

"You'd do well to listen to her." Baldo said. "Maid or not, she has been educated as a nurse."

"~Haha… educated you say? Don't make me laugh Lauffray. I knew more about physiology than her when I was five years old."

Baldo sighed, ignoring his gripe. "You seem rather complacent about loosing your arm."

"Yeah, sure." Stockwell said thinly. "It should consider itself lucky that it gets to go on to the afterlife ahead of me. Should save it a lot of trouble...haha."

Baldo put his palm to his face. He did not bother to hide the frustration in his voice. "Look, Mr. Wesley, you've made it abundantly clear that you have every intention of making your life as miserable as possible. And guess what, you're doing a great job at it. I have no doubt that if I left you to yourself, just sit here and rot away until you're nothing but a stain on the table. But all this self-loathing you're doing, it doesn't make you look cool or humble, it just makes you look pathetic."

Baldo leaned in. "And yet, I'm still taking time and energy out of my day to come and take care of you. Do you know why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

His eyes narrowed. "It's because I'm a man. We made a promise to help each other. And because I'm a man, I keep my commitments. Unlike you, I don't give up."

Stockwell scoffed. "Weren't you the man who sold his soul to that demon Demiurge at the drop of a dime? Don't lecture me about giving up..."

Baldo ignored him. "Look, we've all lost people important to us, Mr. Wesley. And it's fine to grieve, healthy even. But this is…"

He gestured to Stockwell in his entirety. "Just look at you. You're acting like a crybaby. If all it takes is one death to turn you into this, then clearly your much newer to this world than your age suggests."

Stockwell laughed loosely. "...you have no idea how accurate that sentence is…"

"I have no clue as to the life you've lived before coming to the kingdom," Baldo continued, "but I know by the scars on your chest that it wasn't a pleasant one. But if you continue to act like this, all you're going to do is forfeit everything you've built and push away everyone who still even gives a shred of a damn about you. And then, you'll be truly alone."

Baldo leaned in to look right into Stockwell's eyes. Aggression seeped into his voice. "And no matter what kind of hell you think you're in right now or what kind of hell you think you're heading too… Loneliness is a hundred times worse than both of them."

He turned and walked away. He sighed. "Rage, torture, despair, loss, many things will drive a man mad. But even in those cases, madness can be cured, bodies can be fixed. But for loneliness…" A pained look appeared in his eyes. "Once a man goes insane from loneliness, there is no fixing him."

Stockwell grunted. "Are you finished psychoanalyzing me, Freud?"

"Excuse me?"

Stockwell did not respond. He simply smirked and laid sluggishly on the table as the maid finished up her work and redressed him.

"Fine then." Baldo went to the door. "If you're going to be like that, I'll just have leave you to yourself until your sense of reason returns."

He looked to the maid. "Come on, we're leaving."

The maid nodded. "Yes sir."

He made sure to shut the door loudly on his way out.

Stockwell laid in silence for several minutes afterwards.

"...~haha."

His pained laughed devolved into tears. He put his hand over his face. Baldo was right and all Stockwell did was act like an ass.

But there was nothing Stockwell could do.

He desperately wanted to return to Moot and see Niven and Faber and even the other villagers, but he was trapped in E-Rantel.

Death Knights stood ready at every intersection. Surely they were all just waiting for him to make a run for it. The only option he had was to wait for whatever Ainz Ooal Gown wanted to do with him next.

He looked to the locked door at the end of the room, the laboratory. There was nothing in there that could be put to any use either. All of his and Vera's combat gear had already been sent back to the foundry in E-Pespel. He hadn't even a single grain of gunpowder.

He got from the table and limped to the bedroom. He made his way to the closet.

He often found the fashion of the New World was too outlandish and awkward to his tastes, and often saw himself struggling to change in and out of his clothes everyday. The casual and practical style of 22nd century Earth certainly fit him better in his opinion.

The maid had also done an adequate job of dressing him nicely, so needless to say, he wasn't going to his closet to pick out a new set of clothes.

He fished around in the closet for a few moments and found his dagger.

He didn't plan on doing anything with it, but it was the only real ally he felt he had left in E-Rantel. It brought him a modicum of peace to have it on him.

He took it out of its scabbard and gazed for a moment at the black, iridescent blade that Faber had made for him. Aluminium and Adamantite really did alloy into a pretty metal. His mind wandered to Vera's stygilight jewelry she had worn at that ball so long ago.

His heart began to ache and he desperately forced the thought aside.

He sheathed the dagger and returned it to its rightful place at his belt hidden beneath his clothes. As all concealed daggers ought to be, he mused.

He returned to the living quarters.

The pantry in the dining area was fully stocked courtesy of Baldo, but he had no desire to eat.

He sat down at his desk and did the only thing he knew that would reliably distract his mind. He withdrew a pen and piece of paper that had already been scribbled on profusely. He began writing.

… _5, 3, 3, 6, 4, 3, 1, 7, 5, 5 …_

He was calculating digits to the fundamental nuclear polymerization coefficient for activated asimovium nucli. Also known as the asimov value, it was the unit of measurement named after him for his groundbreaking research on Earth.

It was an irrational value so he'd never run out of digits to calculate. By now, he was well passed the thousandth digit. Maybe when he got bored he would try calculating it in base twelve.

… _4, 3, 2, 5, 3, 5, 7, 8, 0, 7 …_

He also wrote it in the New World's numeric system. It was an exercise he had done long ago to help him get a hang of the different writing system.

There was no reason for him to be writing it like that now though since he was just trying to kill time, but it had apparently become a habit.

… _1, 7, 4, 9 ,2 ,4, 7, 6, 8, 3 …_

He was sloppy writing with his left hand, but it didn't need to be legible for him to get the value out of doing it. Mindless calculation was better than grief.

 _... 9, 1, 8, 2, 8, 2, 2, 8, 6, 1…_

A knock on the door interrupted his concentration.

He was surprised, it had only been a few hours, he didn't think Baldo was planning on coming back so soon.

He went back to his calculating. Baldo had a key and would come in as he pleased.

The knock came again, this time it was accompanied by a voice. "Hello? Wesley Aamon?" It was a woman's voice; certainly not Baldo.

But Stockwell didn't care to see anyone. He returned to his paper, he had no reason to-

 _ **Knock. Knock. Knock.**_

The entire front of the house shook. Dust dislodged from the rafters and the inkwell on his desk sloshed back and forth. That was not the knock of someone possessing human strength.

" _ **I know you're in there."**_

Stockwell gulped and got to his feet. It would seem that the time finally had come. He approached the door and opened it tentatively.

"Hello?"

His pupils dilated when he saw who was on the other side. The voice had suggested it was a young woman, but after hearing her strength, he had not known what to think. But at the very least, he had not expected… this.

"Heya~!"

It was an unbelievably beautiful woman with brown skin and a pair of long red braids that ran down from her head. She was wearing what Stockwell could only describe as a needlessly elaborate variation of a maid's outfit.

But what caught his attention most was the oversized scepter she had slung across her back. It was grossly oversized and if made of metal or something of similar density, must've weighed well over a tonne. It would be more or less unusable as an effective weapon for someone of human strength, but that wasn't really the part about it that was catching his attention.

It was the shape of it. There was no disguising exactly what that symbol was and what it represented.

He put his hand to his forehead not knowing how to feel. "...Christ."

The maid smiled sweetly at him. Her expression came in harsh contrast to the fist shaped dent she had left in his front door. "Are you Wesley Aamon?"

"Y-Yes…"

She nodded happily. "Good, come with me. His majesty the Sorcerer King is ready to see you now."

Stockwell clutched his chest. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He nodded to the maid, stepped outside, and closed the door behind him. "... I see he sent a cleric to come and give me my last rights…It's a shame I'm not a christian."

The maid cocked her head. "Christian?"

"You know… Christianity. As in the religion. The whole Jesus Christ, immaculate conception thing..."

The maid showed no signs of recognition.

"But…" Stockwell looked on in confusion. He gestured to her scepter. "But...you have a giant cross, it even has the ring around it and everything…"

All he got from the maid was a lost stare. "Demiurge-sama did say that you might be insane… Just come along."

She turned and proceeded down the road.

Through confused, he hadn't any other option that but to follow.

"...okay."

He limped after her.

...

After Stockwell had the chance to think it over for a few seconds, it truly was perplexing.

During his time in the New World, he had yet to encounter any iconography that was intrinsically linked to Earth. And moreover, he had never once heard anyone allude to anything explicitly stated in the bible.

Yet here was this young woman wielding an oversized cross.

Stockwell spied the scepter as he lagged behind her. It certainly looked heavy enough. At least, too heavy for any normal human to carry. That observation in conjunction with the knowledge that she worked for Demiurge and Ainz Ooal Gown made him come to the conclusion that she was likely not a human.

 _Is it possible that it is simply a coincidence? Could the ornate cross simply just be an aesthetically chosen design and not a reference to Christianity?_

Having no other anachronisms to draw upon, that did seem the most probable scenario…

His eyes suddenly narrowed.

 _But there was also the sniper that Vera said she encountered…_

That incident had occurred during the demonic disturbance, which meant that Jaldabaoth was behind it without a doubt. But he still wasn't precisely sure if Jaldabaoth was working in league with Ainz Ooal Gown-

 _No! Of course Jaldabaoth is._ Stockwell scolded himself, his analytical mind had grown fuzzy over all the hardship. He had already concluded long ago that Renner was involved with Jaldabaoth during the demonic disturbance. And since Renner was undoubtedly in league with Demiurge and Ainz Ooal Gown, transitive property dictates that Jaldabaoth then to must be in league with Ainz Ooal Gown.

 _That's right…_

The conclusion that Stockwell had come too on the Kaze Plains wasn't wrong, every move that Renner, Demiurge, and Jaldaboath had made had been done with absolute foresight in order to prime the Re-Estize kingdom for its inevitable takeover. Such an elaborate scheme could only be concocted by someone in the position to view all of the variables on each and every side all at once. And the only person of course who would be in that position would be the one controlling the kingdom behind the scenes, and the burgeoning Sorcerer Kingdom, Ainz Ooal Gown.

And for a being of such magical power, it was obvious to Stockwell how he had obtained the cross and the sniper rifle used against Vera.

 _Inter-universal_ _travel._

If he had been summoned from Earth by the magic of mere Zurernorn cultists, then surely Ainz Ooal Gown possessed the power to traverse dimensions at will.

Earth did not have magical undead creatures so obviously Ainz Ooal Gown had not originated from Earth, but that wouldn't have prevented him from taking knowledge and cultural influence from there in the same way that the cultists had attempted to do so with him.

Stockwell smiled bitterly.

Such a being could only be considered a god. A god who knew all about Wesley Asimov Stockwell, all of his thoughts, all of his actions, and had been watching him suffer every step along the way. Laughing to himself all the while.

Such knowledge also implied that the New World was just as real as his precious Earth, in case he thought he was still simply in a simulation or something similarly cliche or benign as that.

As Stockwell limped behind the maid, he brought his hand to his face. "~haha…"

This was nothing new, he had felt like this was the case all his life, before even coming to the New World. That his fate was a plaything in the hands of an unfeeling god.

They passed by a shaded alleyway and Stockwell caught a glance inside. He saw conscripts and citizens alike huddled together and passing a needle between them. Do doubt heroin.

The only one he had taught how to make the drug was Hilma of the Eight-Fingers, so evidently she was still alive. Jaldaboath had not merely killed them but taken the heads of the eight-fingers alive.

The drug gave them the security they needed after witnessing the unholy power of the Sorcerer King and the speculative terror of his occupation. Its consumption would no doubt be rising to unprecedented heights soon. Jaldabaoth and by extension, Ainz Ooal Gown, would be sure to make a nice sum out of the whole ordeal.

Stockwell shook his head. Schemes within schemes within schemes.

Ainz Ooal Gown's scheming was so masterful and appeared so effortless, that it easily could've fooled someone into thinking it was accidental. But Stockwell knew better.

The maid looked back at him. "Could you hurry up?"

He continued to limp on. His foot wasn't as broken as before but it was still far from healed. "I'm afraid I'm going as fast as I can. Miss…?" He trailed off in a way to suggest he was asking her name.

"There's no need for to try to be friendly with me~" She smiled sweetly but did not bother to conceal the sadistic monster behind it.

"My orders were to retrieve you and escort you to his highness, and nothing more. But-" The maid looked Stockwell over.

He really was in a horrendous state of health. His skin was sickly gray from malnutrition, his right arm hung limply at his side, and he still had his face bandaged up from when the skeleton had clawed at it. If it weren't for his nice clothes, someone could've easily mistaken him for a beggar on Death's door.

The maid frowned. "I really don't want to be late... but the last thing I want to do is carry you."

She walked up to him and put a hand on his chest. "Consider yourself lucky that a beautiful woman is touching you~" Her voice contained promiscuous overtones, but it was clear from the way that she showed off the disdain in her eyes that she had only spoken it in that way for the sake of contrast.

Stockwell had enough experience observing the dominatrix archetype to know not to quip about it.

She cast her spell. "[Heal]"

To Stockwell, comparing the maid's spell to the one the priest had cast on him at the gate would've been like comparing a nuclear bomb to a firecracker. They weren't so much in different leagues as they were in different universes.

The 6th tier spell flooded his body.

His foot soothed and mended, his arm regained feeling and warmth, and the mark on his face closed in mere seconds.

It was almost too powerful. His long imbued scars began to feel strange. It almost felt as though they were trying to- _No way! Is she really going to heal-_

The maid stopped her spell. "That's good enough."

Stockwell tried to take a deep breath but was so surprised by how clear his airway was that he almost choked on nothing. He took quick score of his body.

He flexed his right hand; his arm was as good as new. His face was full of color and the claw wound hasn't even left a mark. And needless to say, his foot had been completely healed.

He felt that his deep scars were still there, but perhaps that had been cleaned up a bit. He had no way to know for sure though unless he looked in a mirror.

Overall, the spell had comprehensively rejuvenated him.

The maid did not give him any pause. "Now hurry up." She turned and marched off.

The best he could do in reply was nod and run after her.

...

"...ahhhhhh." Ainz put his hand to his fleshless face. The stress was getting to him.

He sat in the office of the former mayor, soon to be the new head office of the Sorcerer Kingdom, but he was still just a salaryman, not a CEO. This kind of work was far out of his purview.

If he couldn't even keep up with all of the reports flooding his desk from Demiurge and Albedo's agents alone, then there was certainly no way he could keep up with the demands that came with running a kingdom. Even if said kingdom was only a single city.

But he had to keep up his facade as a ruler. Allowing himself to betray the NPC's expectations of him would be unforgivable.

He looked at Cocytus's most recent report. He didn't actually "look" at it as in reading it though, he just simply looked passively at the words.

It was just way too long.

 _How did he manage to write this much about that tiny village of lizard men?_

His eyes simply scanned around for names. He only found a couple.

He didn't read anything Cocytus wrote about them, just filed their names and occupations into memory. That way, if and when he ever conversed with Cocytus he could subtly name drop and maintain the illusion that he had read the report in its entirety.

The only thing he actually did read was the concluding sentence.

Judging from the tone, everything seemed to be going fine.

Ainz nodded proudly and moved the report into the "Read and Completed" pile.

It was a large pile and every report in there had been read with a similar level of care.

He moved on to the next report. It was another one from Demiurge. He hated these ones the most.

Of course, that's not to say he thought poorly of Demiurge's intelligence gathering or even his prose, far from it. Demiurge was by far the most productive of the NPCs in furthering Nazarick's plans.

But that largely had to do with the fact that he was the one actually making all of Nazarick's plans. It was a ludicrously delicate predicament for Ainz to be in.

Demiurge operated under the assumption that Ainz was always performing actions to some greater goal, and that he already seen clearly through all of his own plan. Because of that, Demiurge's reports were filled almost entirely with allusions to "him" and "her", and all of the hidden meanings he had encoded into his last report that "Ainz-sama has surely already noticed".

It was really a shame too, since Ainz was actually interested in a lot of Demiurge's work but had no way to ask him directly about it without appearing like an incompetent leader. He always had to resort to cheap conversational tricks in order to gain insight on the plethora of "plans that Ainz-sama had already set into motion".

And the stresses just kept multiplying like a tumor.

The player or players with the world item and mortars were still out there.

It was the one item on his plate that could actually pose a threat Nazarick, and he couldn't even investigate it properly because of this ridiculous charade he had forced himself into with the NPC's.

And now that he was the sovereign ruler of a nation, he had even less time devote to investigating the matter. A nation, mind you, that Ainz had more or less founded simply because that was the natural direction that all of Nazarick's "plans" had headed towards.

He truly had little desire for conquest.

 _Why would anyone willingly take on this level of responsibility?_ He mused.

He slumped forward.

At least the Momon act with Pandora's Actor and Albedo had worked out.

Everyone's eyes were on him to see how he would be governing the city. He had not plundered anything or slaughtered anyone true to the Sorcerer King's word.

But now what was immediately imperative was figuring out a way to alter the legal code proposed by Albedo and Demiurge in a way that didn't inadvertently make him out to be incompetent.

And though it was likely not important in the grand scheme of things, perhaps deep down inside, tucked away in some hidden corner of his psyche, he wanted to make a legal code that Suzuki Satoru could agree with.

Ainz put his bony hand to his face once more and breathed a breathless sigh.

He felt the need to escape.

If only he could just be teleported away to a fantasy world where all of his struggles would be rendered moot and he could just do as he pleased.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"You may enter."

Demiurge entered and bowed. "I have just sent for him to be summoned. He should be arriving in the villa in no more than five minutes."

"Yes, good." Ainz nodded. He only had a vague idea on who 'him' actually was and why he was supposed to be giving him an audience, but he couldn't deny Demiurge since he had already given him the go ahead to summon 'him' a little earlier.

This meeting was a real whopper it seemed. Demiurge had a habit of being more cryptic and tight lipped the more important something was.

"In your honest opinion, Demiurge, how do you propose I handle him?"

Demiurge bowed low. "One such as I surely can't suggest any alternative what you might already have in mind. There haven't been any irregularities thus far, the plan will work as is."

"...Yes, of course."

 _Yes, of course, the super amazing plan._

Demiurge then revealed an item.

A human head. It was warped and matted, and it's flesh had begun to rot away, but it was still easily identifiable as a human head.

It hung frum Demiurge's hand by a fistful of long black hair. "Sadly, the dark young you ordered to kill her crushed the rest of her body to paste. It won't be usable unfortunately. Just the head will have to suffice."

"...I see."

Ainz hadn't actually ordered the dark young to target anyone specifically, so whatever Demiurge was talking about was probably a complete accident. But so far, it seems he's had a great luck when it came to accidents.

Demiurge smiled thinly. "I had only just figured out this part of the plan this morning… to think that you had planned this far ahead, truly I am unworthy."

"Nonsense, Demiurge." Ainz waved his hand magnanimously. "I am not as great as you think I am. Nazarick would be nowhere if it weren't for your intellect."

Demiurge bowed low. "Please, Ainz-sama. There is no need for humility."

Ainz sighed frustratedly within. _How many times have we had this same conversation?_

After finishing their twice-weekly of ritual of Ainz trying to be humble and Demiurge ardently correcting him, the demon eventually excused himself.

…

Stockwell followed the maid through the grand doors.

The Sorcerer king was evidently not there yet. He looked around the hall.

It was originally the VIP villa where royalty and those associated with the crown would stay if ever they found themselves in E-Rantel. In other words, it was a place of human construction; plenty of natural light was allowed to filter in through the left wall and it's design was in accordance to popular Estizian architecture.

But it would seem the undead Sorcerer King had spared no time in laying claim to the place, Stockwell mused.

Red and gold banners hung from the walls bearing an unknown crest. Stockwell stared at it to try and discern it's meaning, but the symbol was complex and seemingly nonsensical. As far as he could tell, the crest was more akin to a rorschach test than a meaningful piece of iconography.

At the front of the hall was an elaborate throne made of jade and gold. The back of the throne easily rose to the height of two men and several branches of gold encrusted with gems sprouted from it. It creeped dangerously close to being gaudy. Though, that simply could've been because material wealth just wasn't a thing that impressed Stockwell, having once been the wealthiest man in the world. The throne would've no doubt intimidated any other man in that regard.

They waited in silence for more than a minute.

Despite valuing his life very little at the moment, he still couldn't help but feel anxious about what was about to happen to him. The waiting was getting to him. Perhaps it was even a mind game that Ainz Ooal Gown was already playing with him, just to freak him out. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

He turned to the maid. "How much longer until-"

"Silence, Ainz-sama is here."

The maid walked around to a position behind and to the side of him and bowed towards the throne.

A black void had opened up just to the side of the throne the moment he had asked the question.

His mouth felt dry and his heart rate increased.

He was about to come face to face with a god. A cruel, cunning, and callous god. An adequate personification of the singular idea he opposed.

No matter what happened, he would not allow himself to beg for mercy or show humility of any kind. Principal was the only thing he possibly had left of himself, he mustn't let any threat, no matter how heinous allow him to do away with it.

He was willing to forgo his innate instinct of self-preservation on a matter of stubbornness. At the very least, such a thought proved he was still a human and not an animal, however dubious the virtues behind it were.

He steeled himself once more.

One form stepped out of the black void.

It was almost funny how fast his steeled will was shaken, he laughed despairingly to himself.

He recognized very clearly who it was. He was wearing a red, pinstripe suit.

The image the demon had burned into his mind was just too concrete. He remembered the exact angle of partition on the collar, the precise amount of slack on the half-windsor knot, the perfect, relaxed posture of which the demon stood.

Him wearing a mask to hide his identity whilst he thrashed the Kingdom's capital must've been nothing more than a cruel joke if he planned on attending meetings wearing a suit as conspicuous as that. And Stockwell suddenly realized how stupid he was for not noticing such an overt anachronism earlier.

Jaldabaoth had grown a giant frog head and wings since last Stockwell saw him, but he was undoubtedly the same demon.

At least they hadn't keep him in suspense for too long, he figured. As he had guessed, Jaldabaoth was just a mere subordinate of the Sorcerer King.

Jaldabaoth stepped to the side to make room for the next person.

Two piercing red points of light shined amongst the swirling black gate. And the Sorcerer King entered.

Stockwell gritted his teeth. He would force himself to hold his gaze, he could not afford to falter.

Ainz Ooal Gown was wearing an gregiously opulent robe. It's fabric a brilliant white and adorned with many huge button-like gemstones, each reflecting a half a dozen different colors of light in the natural sun coming in through the windows. Furthermore, the garment was edged with strange characters embroidered in gold thread.

The distinct lack of coolness hit Stockwell like a truck. His mouth hing in disbelief.

Ainz Ooal Gown looked like a sandwich-board man illuminated by neon lights. It was as though some fantasy game artist attempted to make an overly exaggerated and impractical piece of clothing. It was almost like by wearing it he was satirically mocking the very idea of kinghood, let alone godhood.

The Sorcerer King's clothing was all the more shocking when contrasted with the well tailored demon standing next to him.

 _...Is this some kind of joke…_

Stockwell had expected all manner of schemining and taunting directed at him to get him to falter, but he wasn't prepared for this.

By choosing to wear that robe, Ainz had shaken him before he had even spoken one word.

Stockwell wanted to laugh to himself once again more. Renner had nothing on Ainz Ooal Gown.

The Sorcerer King took his place on the throne. Jaldabaoth bowed and he heard the maid behind him bow once more.

Ainz shifted to the side and placed his elbow on the throne's armrest. He casually rested his skull in his hand in a manner that suggested boredom. It was an overwhelmingly kingly set of motions. His cinder-like eyes burned deep into Stockwell's.

Several seconds passed of nothing happened.

Jaldabaoth's voice came. "You are not in the proper position to converse with his majesty."

Stockwell took a deep breath. _So here it is then…_

He put as much mockery in his voice as he could muster. "If you want me to bow, you're going to have to ask much more nicely."

Another second passed.

Ainz cocked his head boredly.

"Huh?" Stockwell was confused. No one had reproached him-

His vision cut out for a brief second as a mortal pain filled his back. He found himself suddenly looking at the floor. He realized what had happened.

 _Oh… I guess I've been somewhat crucified…_

The maid had pummeled him with her scepter and pressed his body against the floor, no doubt undoing much of the healing that she had just given him. She had evidently decided not killed him, but that may not have been as merciful an option as it sounded.

Ainz's voice came clearly through the hall. It sounded more human than Stockwell expected. "That is enough, Lupusregina. You are dismissed."

The maid retracted her scepter and Stockwell struggled to get back to his feet. The maid hadn't broken his back, but she had certainly made sure to make it hurt.

The maid bowed swiftly once more to Ainz and left the hall.

"Do forgive her. Violence is rarely the answer for such transgressions."

Stockwell clutched his chest. _Violence?_ Wrath was the sin he had the most affinity for next to pride. Finally it was returning to him…

His eye twitched. "...violence?"

Ainz raised a non-existent eyebrow.

"...Violence!?" Stockwell screamed. "Don't _you_ lecture me about violence! After all you've done!"

Ainz wasn't quite sure how to respond. He had become accustomed to seeing the expressions of awe, despair, and everything in between. He didn't remember the last time he had seen such pure, insane rage directed at him by someone who knew full well how powerful he was in comparison.

It was strangely mystifying.

The madman drew a dagger.

Ainz was stunned. _Is he serious?_

"AAAHHHHhhhHHHHh!" Stockwell flew at him across the hall. The way his eyes glazed over and how held his dagger out in front of him as he ran gave Ainz a sense of Deja Vu.

 _Ohhhh! It's Wolf-san!_ Ainz recalled. It was long hall, he had time to think about who he was funnily enough. _The one who attacked Demiurge in the capital… Wesley I think his name was… the steel trader._

Demiurge's voice came. " **Halt.** " It was infused with his [Command Mantra].

Stockwell leg's locked up, rebellious of their owner's mental commands. He tumbled to the ground. His words came out in pain slurs as he struggled to move his body off the floor. "YOu… JuST GeT iT oVer With AlreAdy.!"

His eyes searched madly around Ainz's expressionless face. "ALL YoUr SchemINg, youR Toying! Just Gloat! Taunt me! Kill me! Just… Just…"

It was impossible for Ainz's face to show any kind of meaningful expression with simply to points of light and a jaw bone. To Stockwell, all he could see was an unfeeling god staring back at him.

In truth though, Ainz was utterly confused, not even sure what to say to the man. He didn't even know why he was supposed to be meeting with him. The fact alone that Demiurge had not instantly killed him the moment he drew the dagger meant that he must in some way be inconsequential to some greater plan.

"At LEast SAY SOMETHING!" Stockwell yelled. Having his very existence overlooked was more powerful than any taunt Ainz possibly could've given him in that moment.

" **Hold your breath.** " Demiurge said.

Stockwell's voice cut off. He could only produce gagging noises as he clawed in vain at his own throat.

"You have no right to ask anything of Ainz-sama. Your only job is to wait and receive judgment."

Ainz looked carefully at the man in front of him.

Stockwell struggle fiercely on the ground, his face a mixture of despair and rage. Not even his own legs and throat were his any more. It was difficult not to pity him, even for an undead.

 _What did you do to drive this poor man to insanity, Demiurge?_

From what Stockwell had briefly been able to say, it was likely that he had been toyed with by Demiurge for some time.

In a way, he did feel partially responsible for it. These kinds of things happened because he neglected to rein in Demiurge's sadism in favor of making his own job as a boss easier. It wasn't something he took pride in.

But he still hadn't the faintest clue how to proceed with the man. All he could do was continue to follow Demiurge's lead.

"How do you propose we deal with him?" Ainz asked.

Demiurge let a hint of sadistic joy and disdain leak into his smile, which even despite him being in the form of a frog, was unmistakable to any observer. He made sure Stockwell saw it.

"His crime is high treason against your exalted self. I suggest nailing him to a board and parading him through the streets to send a message to those who would follow him. And if that isn't enough, I have many other forms of torture that I would take personal satisfaction in testing on him."

 _Ah ha!_ Ainz felt relief now that Demiurge had let slip what the man's actual crime was. _So it's treason?_

Ainz nodded to himself. _It has only been three days since taking over the city, it's only natural that many of the powerful people here would conspire against Nazarick's rule. Even if Momon is working to suppress rebellion, I shouldn't expect all humans to automatically accept an undead as king._

He pondered briefly. _E-Rantel hasn't been annexed for long. Torturing and killing him to send a message would only reinforce the biases against undead that the new citizens of the sorcerer kingdom have._

 _...and if Demiurge hasn't killed him yet… he must be expecting me to do something._

"Demiurge, enough. Let him breath."

Demiurge released his hold on Stockwell. The madman fell forward and gasped for air.

"Wesley-dono, was it? You are the wealthiest merchant in this city, are you not?"

Stockwell's words came out in a wheeze as he recovered his breath. "...dono?...You know damn well who I am."

Ainz caught Demiurge about to make a move to the right of him but he quickly raised a hand to stop him.

He continued. "...Right then, Wesley. I intend to keep my word with Momon-dono to not inflict unjust harm upon my subjects. I wish to prove that I am not the barbarian many of you humans perceive me as. However, In your case, killing you would be an adequate punishment for treason."

"Barbarian? Barbarian?!" Stockwell began to shout but was immediately silenced by a motion from Ainz.

"But more so than wishing to prove I am not a barbarian, I wish to prove that I am a merciful ruler. I am willing to give second chances. E-Rantel needs skilled merchants like you if we wish to create a successful nation. I am willing to overlook your transgressions if you work faithfully in my name. What do you say?"

Stockwell was stunned. His lips parted in disbelief. "...haHAhahAHA! You can't be serious!"

"Excuse me?"

"Mercy!? Second chances!? Was what you did at Katze mercy!?" Stockwell clutched his chest in pain and fell to his knees. "YOU KILLED VERA! AND YOU ASK ME TO SERVE YOU!?"

It was strange, the appropriate response a competent ruler would give in this situation would be to say 'so be it' and to crush his heart. But that was much too simple. _What does Demiurge expect me to do!?_

But he couldn't come up with anything else! He tentatively began to cast [Grasp Heart]. "So be-"

Suddenly, he had an epiphany. _Ah ha! I get it now! Yes!_ He felt joy as he finally began to catch on to Demiurge's plan.

"Vera? You mean this?"

Ainz reached into his pocket dimension and pulled forth the severed head he had been given earlier.

Stockwell's tirade was instantly cut short. He released nothing more than sharp breath. His mouth quivered and his hand shakily reached out subconsciously. "W-whha…"

"The lambs simply chased down whatever they saw fit. Surely you can't blame simple animals for where they choose to frolic. It was nothing more than a mere accident."

"A-An accident…? Vera was killed by a mere accident?" Stockwell's eyes could not pull away from the image of Vera's dead an matted head. He held in his face a complex mixture of grief and growing rage.

"But as it is with accidents." Ainz continued. "They can easily be corrected."

...

Vera felt herself floating in a dark place. Or perhaps no place at all. She didn't even know what "she" or "place" was.

She knew nothing and was vanishing. She could only feel a sense of loss.

An undefined amount of time passed by every instant. Something above infinity and below nothing. The answer to zero divided by zero.

However, she felt like she was being pulled by something

From above, from below, from the left, from the right, from somewhere.

Her world was dyed in an explosion of white light.

...

The first thing she saw was the face of man.

 _What is that coming from his eyes?_ Was the first thing she thought. Suddenly, she realized she had thoughts.

Tears, was the word she had been looking for. Then she recognized the man.

"...Wesley?

Her memories rushed back to her. She remembered the dark young's tentacle rushing in from her blind spot and knocking her out of the sky. And she remembered watching a gigantic black hoof filling her field of vision.

 _I'm dead… but… I've been brought back to life..._

Her legs shivered. Weakness filled her body and she fell forward.

Stockwell caught her. "V-Vera! Vera, is that you?"

Her chest pressed against his and her head fell over the pit in his shoulder. Her senses returned. "W-Wesley... how did you... resurrect me?"

She felt a cloth fall on her naked back. It was followed by a voice she did not recognize. "I trust there will be no more issues between us then?"

The voice was not directed at her.

"You're in my debt now, Wesley. I do expect you to work hard for this nation to repay it."

She attempted to move her head to get a look at the man behind her, but Stockwell stopped her. He put his hand on the back of her head and prevented her from moving.

Stockwell's voice steeled over. He spoke the first clear an deliberate words he had in the hall that day. "...I'll be taking my leave then." His tone was very dark.

"I take it that means you accept my offer?" Ainz said.

"Yes... I plan on working very, very hard... your majesty. "

Stockwell turned and crouched down, cupping his arms behind him. A motion that suggested Vera get on his back. He could tell that she was too weak to walk at the moment. "Come on Vera, we're leaving."

"O-Oh…" Vera understood what the gesture meant. She reluctantly obliged.

Stockwell calmly made his way towards the exit. Having Vera on his back gave him an excuse not to bow. A strange power filled his muscles.

The pain from whatever back injury the maid gave him stabbed at him as Vera's weight pressed down on it. But it only served to sharpen his mind. His foot falls echoed heavily on the hard floor.

The rest of Vera's thoughts were still returning to her. After all, she'd only been alive for less than a minute now. But at the very least, she could sense the attitude of the man beneath her. "W-Wesley? Are you okay? You seem a little..."

"I'm perfectly fine, Vera."

"R-Right…"

Stockwell managed to push open the doors and exit the Villa.

...

 _That was certainly strange._ Ainz thought.

It was perhaps the most unorthodox parting with a subject he's had so far. He was surprised and slightly worried that Demiurge had stayed quiet the whole time.

He looked to Demiurge. The frog demon's expression was difficult to read.

Ainz was worried he had done something wrong. He thought over everything that had just happened. Given all of the knowledge he had at the time, his actions seemed the most consistent to what Demiurge probably wanted him to do.

But the Demon wasn't saying anything. That couldn't have been a good sign.

He took a deep breath with his non-existent lungs. "Everyone can make mistakes, Demiurge. You-"

"Sasuga Ainz-sama!" Demiurge was shaking with reverence.

 _Uhh... what?_

Demiurge's head returned to it's humanoid form. Elation was on his face. "Yes! Yes! I see it! To think you had planned that far ahead…"

His hands quivered in delight. "I had never even considered this path… but yes! It's perfect this way! I must… I must prepare for his next move. I shall contact princess Renner at once!"

He shuddered as a [Gate] opened before them.

"Truly your foresight knows no bounds."

"Ahem… well uh… yes" Ainz eventually stuttered out. "Accidents happen."


	22. Grey

Vera's hair swung lightly, back and forth like a pendulum with the footsteps of the man carrying her. He moved quickly and methodically underneath her. It seemed to her that he was moving with an almost supreme amount of eagerness.

She tapped him on the shoulder. "...I think I can walk by myself now."

"Nonsense," Stockwell said. "You've been alive for ten minutes. You need rest."

"I must be pretty heavy though and I don't want to burden you any longer…"

"You'd never be a burden, Vera." Stockwell said, "How many times have you saved my life? Just hang on, we're almost there."

Vera shivered in the cold. The winter chills had come to the Re-Estize kingdom and all she had to wear at the moment was Stockwell's coat that he had given her. Her naked legs swung weakly beneath her. "...Okay."

She looked around at the faceless buildings of E-Rantel. It hardly looked like the same place. It was a complete ghost town. A hollow wind blew through the city.

She could already assume that the city had been annexed by the Sorcerer King.

They continued for only a little while longer until she saw a death knight riding a horse-like monster patrolling the streets. She had seen the pair of death knights guarding the villa on their way out, but had assumed that such powerful creatures were only reserved for royal guards.

Her memories came back to her. _Oh yeah… we saw them at Katze, didn't we…_ the Sorcerer King had brought with him a convoy over a hundred of the undead creations. She tightened her hold and leaned into Stockwell as they passed.

She gazed at the horse monster. Its fog-like tendrils flickered in and out of the hollow the skeleton that made its body. _I think I've heard of these before… back in the cult. A legendary creature that eats souls. A soul eater._ She could only assume that the all powerful necromancer that summoned them was the same one that had brought her back to life.

She had not seen the Sorcerer king's face, Stockwell had not permitted her to turn her head. "...How long have I been gone?"

"It's been a little less than four days since Katze." Stockwell said.

"...I see." It had felt like an instant to her, but looked like it had been an eternity for E-Rantel.

"I'm sorry he interrupted your time in heaven. I wouldn't have wanted to come back to this world either."

Vera shook her head. "Oh… no, um, I'm good. That's not really how it all works… heaven and all that. Or, I guess I'm not really sure. My sense of time must've been off since I don't remember being be dead."

Stockwell sighed. "...a pity."

She had not grown up on the belief of there being such a thing as an afterlife with a heaven and hell that differentiated the souls of mortals. That was a Roble belief, and a naive one according to her grandfather. Her own teachings can from the ancient texts of Zurrerorn. _Souls are entities like the foam left by the waves of this great world, and so whether large or small, they are fundamentally the same. Sin and virtue are of no consequence._

The existence of necromancy alone disproved the concept of heaven were souls would return forever anyways. There was also the ancient magic of the dragons too, which were able to manipulate the souls of the dead.

If heaven were ever to exist, they would need to make it in the living world.

"... I'm sorry." Vera said quietly. "...for dying."

"It was never your fault."

"...well, maybe… but," Vera said. "But what did you pay to get me back?"

A slow and dark chuckle welled up inside Stockwell.

"Wesley?"

"Pay for you? No no no, the Sorcerer King gave you back free of charge. Or more accurately, you were on the house. Degrading, right?"

"But back there… I heard him say that you were in his debt."

"Oh I know what he said Vera dear." Stockwell replied. "I also know what he didn't say. And sometimes that's more important than the other."

"I don't understand…"

Stockwell began to chuckle once more. But it was not rueful or mocking, nor was it joyful. It sounded to Vera as though he was laughing at a dark inside joke that he had shared with someone else. Like the effervescence of a slowly bubbling, black lake of tar.

"Ainz Ooal Gown is the type of person who never says what he actually means. His words contain many many layers to them. He's letting us go free."

"But I thought he told you to work for his kingdom?"

"That's what he said, but that it isn't what he meant." Stockwell said. "He said to work _for_ the Sorcerer Kingdom, without actually specifying what to do, but that I should work very hard at whatever it is I choose to do."

"...I don't get it." Vera said, lost.

"By not specifying exactly what I should be doing, he purposefully left the statement open to interpretation. He proposes that I plan on working very _very_ hard for his kingdom, which I now have every intent on doing. Just not for its benefit."

Stockwell grinned wolfishly, his eyes containing in them a dark eagerness that one would expect to see in someone about to run a gauntlet of god-like proportions. "I already failed once with Wesley Steel Works and the Re-Estize kingdom, but like he said: He's a 'merciful' king who's willing to give second chances."

"But that would mean…" Vera looked puzzled. "... that would mean he's encouraging you to try to destroy him? Why would he do that?"

"Why you ask?" Stockwell said. "That should be obvious. Ainz Ooal Gown has no flesh, no emotions; a being of purely intellectual experience. He can't be motivated by the trivialities of women, wealth, conquest, or power. Moreover his magical might is unparalleled in this world. In a way, I can sympathize with the unimaginable boredom he must feel… yes…"

"Wesley?"

"Yes… that must've been what he was trying to tell me by making his motions appear like he was bored…"

Stockwell nodded slowly, "For a being such as him, this world is just a game and he just a player. He wishes for me to play with him for as long as possible. Just like with Lucifer, the unbound, pure intelligence with no humanity to restrain it, naturally generates an unstoppable pride. He wants to beat me down for his own gratification… yes… that has to be it… it must be… it's either that or he merely wishes to be entertained."

Vera's eyebrows furrowed. "...I'm not sure about you reasoning… Wesley. It sounds pretty far fetched, are you sure you're not over analyzing-"

"-Then what else am I supposed to think!?" Stockwell yelled. The wrath in his voice barely masked his despair.

The only reply that came was his own question, echoed back at him by the soundless streets.

"-I…" Vera tried to say something but nothing came out. She dropped her head sadly. She was used to observing this kind of behavior. She understood that Stockwell was not actually mad at her, but it still hurt to see him like that.

Stockwell pinched his temples. "I'm Sorry…" He took a deep breath an organized his thoughts. "It's just… You've only been alive for ten minutes, you weren't there for the whole meeting. You never saw how he acted, how he talked. Every single one of his actions and words has hidden meaning behind it. Ainz Ooal Gown is someone far beyond playing with vague interpretations and accidents. There is no such thing as over analyzing when it comes to him."

"...but to just resurrect me and lets us go, and for nothing in exchange. Just for the sake of a game… who would do that?"

"Who, you ask?" Stockwell replied. "I knew another necromancer who did exactly that."

Vera raised her head. "You mean…"

"Your grandfather, Vera. Aamon. He knew you were doing favours for me and helping me to escape the whole time I was imprisoned."

"He did? Then why didn't he-"

"It's because more so than wishing for whatever knowledge he thought I had, more so than preserving his own life, he wanted to play a game with me. He wished to prove a point. I don't know what happened in his life, but he nevertheless ended up harboring hatred towards the gods." Stockwell chuckled coldly. "I know the feeling well… though, it was ridiculous for him to think that me, just a mere human from Earth could ever be a god."

Stockwell cleared his throat. "Ahem, or, maybe not. He no doubt had unshakable faith in his magic and assumed his summoning spell worked. The reason he let you meet with me and the reason he let me scheme is quite simple, he said so himself, ' he wanted to watch me struggle.' It was pride, Vera. He wanted to prove a point that his magic was stronger than mine no matter what I did. He wanted to prove that he was better than the gods loathed. And ultimately, he lost. All he managed to do was cover me in scars."

Vera's mouth parted halfway in disbelief. _but..._

But after only a little while longer, she closed her mouth in understanding. _...Yeah… I guess he was like that… wasn't he..._

Vera rode along in silence for quite some time after that. Even if Stockwell was a grown man, he was still only human and could only carry so much so quickly. She must've been heavy after all this time and their progress towards the house was slow.

She thought over everything that she knew. Of Ainz Ooal Gown, of Stockwell, of her grandfather, of everything she knew about the universe she lived and died in.

"But isn't that a bit cynical…? Treating the world as nothing but a game… doesn't that just make everything meaningless?"

"Perhaps." Stockwell said. "Though, I know some parts of hindu philosophy teach something similar. The universe isn't so much a game to played and we are the players, rather, that the universe is just a grand, never ending drama and we are the actors. We're mearley characters in a story and must play out our roles. I imagine some people must find meaning in that somehow…"

His tone was very dark, but he spoke in a manner that suggested he was completely lucid. They only continued on for a little while longer and eventually reached their residence.

…

They returned to see Baldo lounging around in the living quarters. He appeared to be reading a letter with a great amount of importance.

He stood when he saw the pair enter. "Wesley-san! I had heard that you had been summoned by the Sorcerer King so I came by-" His eyes grew wide when he saw Stockwell's condition. "You're healed! How did-"

"It's because apparently the Sorcerer King is merciful ruler."

Baldo noticed the strange conviction in Stockwell's eyes, and noticed the woman he was carrying. "...What happened?"

Stockwell ignored the man. He helped Vera down off his back. "Are you okay to walk by yourself?"

Vera nodded. "Yeah."

"Then why don't you go and find something to wear."

Vera stood shakily on her legs. "I was planning on it." She tentatively made her way to the bedroom.

He called out to her to her as she was heading up the stairs. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"I'll prepare something then" He headed off into the dining area.

Baldo quickly followed after him. "W-Wait… Wesley-san. Your health, your attitude… that woman. Tell me what happened?"

"Isn't it obvious, Lauffray?" Stockwell began to tear through the cabinets in search of food. "The Sorcerer King, in all of his power and wisdom, healed me and brought Vera back to life. And now, Wesley Steel Works is in an agreement with the Sorcerer Kingdom and will be working diligently to create as much profit as possible."

He found a loaf of bread and began wolfing it down.

Baldo was at a loss. Stockwell's tone and demeanor was too hard to read. His reply seemed too simple and his change too drastic, and he knew of Stockwell's general personality too and knew that there must've been so much more to the story.

Baldo wanted to ask him more, but the sheer intensity at which Stockwell moved about the kitchen made him hesitant. He looked like a ravenous wolf in search of prey.

However, there was one thing in particular that Baldo fixated on that he just needed to ask."The Sorcerer King… can bring back the dead?"

"Of course he can." Stockwell voraciously gulped down a huge portion of bread. "He's so good at making things dead, it's only natural that he would be able to brings some back as well."

"...Right." Baldo trailed off."

"Why do you ask? You've got some late mother or lover you'd like to see again?"

"N-No, not at all." Baldo defensively shook his head. "-And hey! Don't you think you should slow down a bit? Your stomach won't be able take it if you eat so quickly."

"Quiet Lauffray, I need energy. And I haven't eaten in three days, not three weeks. I'm not at risk of refeeding syndrome." Stockwell finished the bread and set his sights on a container of lamb stock.

He put some fresh wood in the oven and started to clear room for the lamb stock. He looked back out into the living area at the fireplace.

Baldo caught on to what he was thinking. "Oh, sorry. I think the coals are out. The neighbors probably have fire."

Stockwell shook his head in disappointment. "...I fucking hate the middle ages. All I need is a light for god's sake… fuck it, I'll just ask Vera to light it when she comes back down."

He moved on to some vegetables and began to cut them.

As Baldo watched him, the sight seemed a little surreal. Stockwell moved with unreal intensity, like he didn't want to waste a single moment.

Stockwell spoke in between mouthfuls as he chewed on the vegetables. "I'll be taking a leave from E-Rantel for a while. I want you to watch over the place while I'm gone. I know that you have business in this city and won't be leaving for some time."

"Leaving E-Rantel? But I thought you said that your company just entered an agreement with the Sorcerer King. Don't you need to be here to coordinate things?"

"Nonsense." Stockwell said. "Knowing the Ainz Ooal Gown, I trust he's already coordinated things. I expect to find a letter in arriving in E-Pespel shortly. And besides, you know as well as I do that there won't be any activity in the domestic markets here whilst everyone is cowering in fear. It will still be a few months before things start to pick up and I'm actually needed here."

"B-But…" Baldo began to rack his brain. "All our other prominent colleagues have already fled the city and the rest of the smaller ones are fleeing as we speak. Surely the Sorcerer King will think you've done the same if you take leave so soon."

Stockwell shrugged. "Merchants like us with national businesses can't do our job if we're forced to stay in one city. If the Sorcerer King feels he wants something as benign as control over Re-Estize's steel production, he's going to have to let me do my job."

Vera came slowly down the stairs. She was wearing a modest set of clothing and a simple brown cloak. She glanced into the kitchen.

"What are you making? Do you need help?"

"Ahh, Vera. That was quick." Stockwell said. "For lunch we're having hearty lentil stew with a lamb stock base."

Vera suddenly grabbed her stomach. "...lamb?"

Stockwell raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"No it's just…" She tried to push away certain memories. "Sorry… just, I don't want anything to do with sheep, please. Too soon."

"Oh, I see…" Stockwell realized what she was getting at. "I think I saw some dried beef in the pantry, right Lauffray?"

"What? Oh, um yes. I think there was." Baldo replied.

"Then I think we can make something out of that, Vera." He turned to Baldo. "I'm sure you have other business to attend to, so I won't keep you any longer."

Baldo scratched his head. It seemed to him that Stockwell was in a hurry to get rid of him.

He eventually sighed. "... I guess I'll be seeing you then, Wesley-san."

He made his way to the door. "I wish you well."

All Stockwell gave him was a small wave. And with that, Baldo left the two of them alone.

Vera helped Stockwell along as he hurried to make the meal. "You might want to slow down a bit."

"As of now, I'm declaring the start of project Vishnu." Stockwell said. "We must be swift, and focused. Let's hurry and fuel up, catch you up on the current situation, clear the building of useful materials, and return to Moot."

…

They stopped their cart just outside of one of E-Rantel's main gate. There was a long line of horse drawn carts and wagons just ahead of them also trying to get out of the city.

Stockwell stood up at the reins and looked over the line of people ahead of him. He scowled and sat back down.

"It looks like they're stopping the carts. They're probably searching them."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not really." Stockwell grunted. "It's not like we have anything on us that would peek anyone's interest. Oh- look."

They craned their necks to see several carts turning away from the gate. "They're turning people back."

"Why?" Vera asked.

"Well, since normal citizens are being allowed to leave, those people were likely people of interest that, for some reason or another, the Sorcerer Kingdom didn't want leaving the city. It's probably political."

The waited as the line grew shorter. Eventually they got to the gate.

A hooded figure with a clipboard approached them.

Two points of light burned brightly with it's eye sockets. An elder lich.

It spoke in monotone. "Name?"

"Oh? I didn't realize Ainz Ooal Gown was employing undead monsters as bureaucrats now." Stockwell quipped. "Actually, you know what, never mind, that sounds like a perfect job for your kind."

The elder lich ignored the comment. "Name?"

"Adolf Hitler."

The lich paused for a brief second as it viewed its clipboard. "You are lying."

"Oh well that's good news." Stockwell chuckled lightly.

The elder lich continued. "What is your name?"

"Jack Skellington."

"You are lying."

Vera saw the pair of death knights guarding the gate began to shift. She quickly grabbed Stockwell's arm. "Wesley!" She spoke harshly into his ear. "What happened to 'swift and focused'?"

"I'm just fucking with it." Stockwell waved her off. "How many chances do think one gets to mess with something that looks so much like Ainz Ooal Gown?"

The elder lich looked up from its clipboard. "You are Wesley Aamon."

"Ahhh, look what you did Vera. You went and spilled the beans." Stockwell lazily threw up his hands in an 'I surrender' fashion. "Congratulations skeletor, you got me."

The elder lich made a mark on its clipboard. "You are not allowed to leave."

Stockwell's sarcastic attitude instantly changed. "Excuse me?"

"Wesley Aamon and Vera Koshikn are not allowed to leave E-Rantel, as per the order of prime minister Albedo." The elder lich replied.

"Prime minister… Albedo?" Stockwell blinked, "the Sorcerer King has a unit of solar reflection working as prime minister?"

The elder lich ignored him. "You will now be searched."

Another elder lich and a pair of goblins appeared from the gate house. They made their way to the cart.

"W-Woah, hold on." Stockwell said. "I was just in a meeting with the Sorcerer King. I've been given clearance to leave."

The elder lich double checked its clipboard. "You are on the blacklist."

"Well the list is wrong!"

The goblins and the other elder lich began rummaging through the back of the cart. There was nothing magical or technological in there that would be considered contraband, but it was still a violation of basic privacy nonetheless.

"I'm just going on a business venture, not fleeing the city! Check your list again."

"The list is not wrong." The elder lich replied.

"This is madness!"

The people around them began to shift uncomfortably.

Stockwell looked around at them. "Oh come on. Are all of you just too scared to speak out against such obvious injustice!? Just because there's some powerful undead watching you?"

Vera grabbed his arm and spoke harshly into his ear once more. "Wesley! Stop, you're making a scene."

Stockwell crossed his arms and let out a frustrated groan. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "This can't be right."

A voice appeared from behind them. "Is there an issue here?"

They heard relieved sighs rise from the people around them. Vera audibly shifted.

"Huh? What is it?" Stockwell turned around.

There was a black wall of metal approaching them.

"Momon-sama."

Stockwell squinted at Vera's words. "Momon-sama? Oh… I see."

The dark warrior approached the cart. His black armor glistened in the evening sun and his red cape fluttered brilliantly behind him. "If you have any issues you may talk to me, citizen."

Vera stood in her seat. "Momon-sama. It's me, remember?"

Momon paused for a second. "Yes, of course." He nodded grandly.

"And I'm sure you remember Wesley-"

"-You're the one keeping the law around here, right?" Stockwell interjected.

Vera tugged on his arm and whispered quietly. "You're being rude-"

"Yes, that is one of my duties." Momon replied.

"Then tell this skeleton to let us pass. There's no reason for it to be keeping us here."

Momon went to the elder lich and began discussing with it. He returned moments later. "You're on the list. I'm afraid I can't lawfully intervene on your behalf in this matter."

"Hah?" Stockwell's eye twitched. "I've been given direct permission from the Sorcerer King to leave E-Rantel! You would dare stand against his direct orders?"

Momon raised his hand. "How do I know you're not just making that up?"

"Excuse me!?" Stockwell raised his voice. "You'd take an undead's word over that of your own species!?"

"That isn't relevant to the conversation at hand. I'm merely doing my duty to uphold the law. This elder lich has no reason to lie."

"So what?" Stockwell said. "For the sake of argument, let's say I was lying. Let's say I was trying to flee the city because I was fearful of the Sorcerer King and didn't want to be trapped in this city any longer. Would you not just do a simple favour for me, a fellow human, and allow me to escape?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Momon replied calmly. "If I allow myself to do favours for people attempting to undermine the will of the Sorcerer King, then I will be breaking my agreement. And if I break my agreement with the Sorcerer King, then there is no telling what he might do to the innocent people of E-Rantel. But the tacit agreement of course is that while I enforce the law, then you too must uphold it."

Several voices rose from the people around around them listening in to the conversation.

"Shut it rich kid!"

"Momon-sama saved us!"

"Oh come on!" Stockwell stood and gestured aggressively to the onlookers. "'Undermine the will of the Sorcerer King'? I thought your sacred duty was to uphold the will of humanity!"

Momon simply gestured to the same people. "They seem to agree with me."

"Stop thinking you're better than Momon-sama!"

"Yeah, he's right!"

"Stop arguing with Momon-sama!"

"Move your cart out of the way already!"

Stockwell threw a glare over the growing crowd. "Quiet! All of you are only saying that because you're sheep! You cavemen would all sooner flock to the strongest man in the room and follow him off a cliff than do any critical thinking yourselves!"

Vera tugged hard on his arm. "Stop it! You're being-"

"What, I'm being rude, Vera? I'm being illogical?" Stockwell spread his arms wide to the crowd. "Don't you all just think it's a little too convenient that the Sorcerer King happened to find the perfect sheepdog for keeping you peons in line without even having to lift a finger? Isn't it just too much of a coincidence to that it also happens to be the same man who let Jaldabaoth go free during the demonic disturbance too? And don't you think it's strange how all of these people just happened to show up in the Kingdom all within the same year? Come on you people, it's so obvious! You're all being played for fools!"

The crowd gave him a chorus of boos in response.

"Wesley!" Vera pulled him down back into the seat.

Stockwell scoffed and sat back down, crossing his arms. "...shows what they know."

Momon calmed the crowd with a motion of his hand.

He removed his helmet. Momon did not do this often and only reserved it for situations like this. It was that fact that he did it so little, that the action had so much gravity to it.

The crowd gasped and strained their necks to get a glance at the dark warrior's face.

Momon's features were not particularly fanciful and his expression was humble. "Are you finished assaulting my character? It does no one any good to sow seeds of doubt about each other's basic humanity."

"Hmph… Yeah, sure. Whatever you say Mr. Paragon." Stockwell said coldly.

Vera bowed deeply in her seat. "W-We're so very sorry Momon-sama. We all understand the sacrifices you must've made to keep us safe."

Stockwell spoke from the side of his mouth. "...don't apologize for the both of us-"

Vera ignored him. "-Wesley is just really stressed is all."

Momon gently put his helmet back on. "I understand, Vera-san. No offense has been taken. It's only natural that all of the undead guarding the city will put anyone on edge."

He turned to the crowd. "But you can have faith that I will do everything within my power to keep all of you safe."

Smiles and sounds of gratitude rose from the crowd, and slowly, people eventually began to disperse.

"Now then," Momon turned back to Stockwell, "I'm going to have to ask you to turn your cart back."

Stockwell grabbed the reins. "...Fine."

But as they were turning away, Momon suddenly stopped them.

"Wait."

"Huh? What is it now?"

Momon stood still for several seconds. His palm was held up to the side of his helmet where his ear would've been, as though he were talking on the phone with someone. He held that position for several seconds before continuing.

"Your name was Wesley Aamon, correct?"

Stockwell's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I guess that's what people call me. What of it?"

"My sincerest apologies then. It would seem that you have indeed been given permission to leave E-Rantel."

Stockwell let out a frustrated groan. "Oh great. Let me guess, it was a bureaucratic mix up in the upper echelons of the Sorcerer Kingdom. A mistake on prime minister Albedo's behalf, or maybe a certain demon's perhaps?"

Momon hesitated. "...yes."

Stockwell turned the cart back towards the gate. "I wonder how the Sorcerer King must feel, to have such incompetent subordinates compared to himself." He knew he was being unnecessarily insulting, but if he didn't vent his malcontent every once in a while, he would be sure to explode.

Momon froze up for a second. Unbeknownst to anyone watching, Stockwell's comment had struck a chord in the man behind the helmet.

Even if Momon had no respect for Stockwell's words and brushed his insults off harmlessly, this one insult in particular stung. This likely gave credence to the fact that it simply reminded Momon, or rather, the doppelganger playing Momon, of how he truly felt.

Vera looked at Momon questioningly. "Are you alright?"

"What? Oh...yes. I'm fine."

Momon motioned to the elder lich at the gate to let them through. The lich obliged and the gate slowly opened.

Vera gave Momon a short bow as they passed. "Thank you, Momon-sama. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. No hard feelings right?" She grabbed Stockwell's arm. "Right?"

Stockwell sighed. "...sorry."

"Not at all." Momon waved them goodbye. "Gute Fahrt."

Vera had a puzzled look for a second.

"Tschüss." Stockwell replied.

And with that, they left E-Rantel.

...

The rode down the path away from E-Rantel.

Vera frowned. "That was exceedingly rude. That man saved your life in the capital."

"Yeah yeah..." Stockwell waved Vera off. "'The madman with a dagger charging into a sea of demons after someone totally out of his league.' I've heard the story a thousand times."

Vera sighed. "You weren't serious back there, were you? About Momon being in league with the Sorcerer King?"

"What? Oh…" Stockwell rubbed his forehead. "Well, no, but not exactly… I was sort of just making it up as I went. I was mad, alright?"

Vera game him a concerned expression. "What got into you?"

"Christ, I don't know Vera. I can't seem to pinpoint any reason as to why I might lash out angrily sometimes," he said sarcastically.

"It couldn't possibly be the the twenty four hours of limping back to E-Rantel on a broken foot and arm, the three days of starving myself whilst undead monsters breathed down my neck, the almost two years now of struggling to fight off bull shit fantasy people with a popgun and poison gas, the way I was shanghaied away from my home and tortured for five months, the undeniable evidence that all our fates are just playthings in the hands of an omnipotent omniscient unfeeling undead multi-dimensional necromancer who keeps a world ending demon emperor as a pet, or even the fact that I had to stare at the decaying and mutilated disembodied head of the one woman I actually trust in this world."

Vera went quiet.

Stockwell slumped forward at the reins. "But God forbid I be rude every once in a while…"

Vera looked him over. She had mused earlier that day that E-Rantel had looked like it had aged so much more than the almost four days she had been dead.

But she then realized that the one who had aged the most was Stockwell. His hair was somehow even greyer than she remembered, and she swore that the stress lines on his face weren't that pronounced before Katze.

Perhaps she had taken Stockwell's indomitable stubbornness too much for granted. Her death must've shaken him more than she thought.

She tucked her legs in and spoke quietly. "...I'm sorry."

"No, no… It was never your fault." Stockwell passed his hand through his hair.

They rode on in silence for a long time after that.

The sun had just started to get near enough to the horizon behind them for the first shades of orange to appear in the sky. The bird song had long since stopped and crickets had started to chirp in anticipation for the coming night.

The sights and sounds of their beautiful world passed through her. Soon, the dead of winter would be upon them and the sky would be locked in a permanent grey overcast for many months.

"So then…" Vera eventually asked. "What's the plan?"

"What do you do when reach the final boss of a game too early and get crushed?"

Vera cocked her head. The metaphor was lost on her.

"You return to the earlier levels and grind until you have the right items to challenge the boss again, Vera dear."


	23. The Stockwellian Warmachine III

**The science discussed is very much sound in principal, however, it is sci-fi in nature since it supposes on 2138 tech. While the goal of this chapter is like the others of it's kind; illustrating the accusation of technology, this one in particular has an additional goal. That is, to expand on some of the already excellent world building of Overlord.**

 **This chapter reflects what I assume would be plausible scientific explanations for the existence of magically metallurgy and hints at the physiologically impossible feats of Overlord characters.**

* * *

They rode down the familiar grassy hill.

That little village, which sat peacefully on the banks of a large blue lake in the middle of a caldera, was a sight for sore eyes.

Distilleries, vats, furnaces, transformers, storage depots...Ever so slowly, the seed of industry that Stockwell had planted into the hot, yellow ground across the lake was taking shape. It had spread like a giant metallic fungus, digging it's tubular steel mycelium into the sulfur rich dirt.

Stockwell took note of all that has changed in Moot Village's footprint since last he came. It had been quite some time, and he was pleased to see that Niven and Faber had been hard at work.

He sighed and gave Vera a tired smile as they rolled down into the caldera. "Well, here we are… back to ground zero."

Vera strained her eyes and spied a form waving happily at them from the village. "I think that's Niven waving at us."

"He and Mr. Faber no doubt have questions for me. I certainly haven't been going easy on them with the projects I've forced upon them."

He turned to Vera who was smiling peacefully. "And don't think I'll be going easy on you just because you died. I expect you to be training your electromagnetism magic even harder now to make up for what you've lost. That includes continuing to learn electron orbitals and honing your electrolysis."

Vera frowned. "...hai."

"And don't think you can shirk your marksmanship practice either just because you have a talent."

He snapped the reins and hurried the horses down the hill. "We all have a tremendous amount of work to do."

…

And so, after exchanging warm salutations and allocating tasks, they set off to work immediately.

…

Stockwell fiddled about with a set of dark metal tubes, levers, and slides. He slid them in and out of each other carefully, trying to discern the friction and resistance between the parts. He was overall satisfied with the parts, but noticed a critical flaw.

He called out to the blacksmith who was hard at work on the other side of the workshop. "I think I found a problem, Mr. Faber. When the trigger assembly is all put together, it ends up leaving a void in the metal lining the wall just below the chamber. I think it's possible a round might get caught in it as the slide is moving."

"Really?" Faber broke away from his task and trudged over Stockwell. "Let me see."

He examined the area Stockwell was referring to. "Oh, yeah. That is a problem."

"How easy is the fix?"

"Hmm…" Faber scratched his beard. "There's not hotfix for something like this. The whole part needs to be reforged."

Both of them sighed.

This was because they were running low on adamantite. Or more precisely, they were running low of useable adamantite.

Normally, when a smith would mess up the shape of a piece, they could just reheat the material and reforge it back into the desired shape, that way the actual material would not be lost. But this was a slightly different case when it came to enchanted materials.

For enchanted materials, such as adamantite imbued with [Lesser Mitigate Weight], there was a limited number of forgings one could perform before the enchantment would dissociate from the metal and loose all effect, so there was incentive to get pieces right on the first try.

But since the process of alloying the enchanted adamantite with aluminium into stygilight already used up a single forging, room for error for when it came time to shape the stygilight was incredibly tight, lest one wanted to forgo the enchantment.

"I'm okay with recycling stygilight for something small like this." Stockwell rubbed his forehead. "I've already purchased so much adamantite off the market that the Kingdom's prices have artificially inflated. If I buy anymore, those geezers in the smithing guild are going to throw a fit."

Faber chuckled lightly. "Do my ears deceive me? Is the big bad Grey Wolf scared of a few elder meatheads lazing around in the capital?"

Stockwell returned Faber's laugh. "Well, they only tolerate me because I keep steel prices at rock bottom. If they're scared about what I might do when I solidify a complete monopoly and are planning a boycott against me at some point, I don't want to give them an excuse to start one now."

Faber waved his hand dismissively in a joking manner. "The only ones 'experienced' enough to work with adamantite are those few handfuls of elders with sticks up their asses. Surely you can get away with making adamantite prices a little higher without angering the rest. You know, just to torment them a bit." He let out a hearty laugh.

Stockwell smiled. "Well damn Mr. Faber, you sure don't like your old superiors do you?"

"Well, they are the reason I left the guild to go practice my craft in a tiny village after all. They allocate the right to work on more expensive pieces based on seniorship rather than actual merit." Faber shook his head ruefully. "It's a ridiculous system that serves only to enrich those who've been a part of the guild for longer."

Stockwell shrugged. "Isn't that only natural though? Seniority in and of itself is the chief method on which people climb the corporate ladder. It isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"Maybe." Faber said. "But the way those elders go about doing it.. All it does is deprive newer blacksmiths of valuable opportunities to grow and prove their skills. They care more about preserving power between them than the craft itself. Basically, they're all just bastards as far as I can tell."

Stockwell chuckled. "It sounds to me like you have a very well thought out and impartial position on the subject, Mr. Faber."

The blacksmith threw his hands up jokingly once more. "Yes, well, there you have it. My incredibly nuanced opinion on the state of smithing affairs in this country. Free of charge."

They laughed lightly together.

"Anyways, Mr. Stockwell. It's been a pleasure watching you shake up the markets. You give an old smith like me hope that our ancient craft might actually make some progress towards something greater."

"Flattered." Stockwell smiled. "I guess I'll consider buying up a little more adamantite if that's the case."

 _Smithing most certainly will be making progress towards something greater._ Stockwell thought. Thanks to magic, many of the blacksmiths of the New World had the ability to shape metal as if it were clay, meaning that there was much less infrastructure needed when it came to producing detailed parts for complex machines. If a wide scale industrial revolution were ever to take place in the New World, it would undoubtedly be a thousand times more vigorous than the one that occurred on Stockwell's planet.

He began to recollect the other pieces he was fiddling with. "At any rate, Mr. Faber, having a few pieces of unenchanted stygilight in my pistol isn't going to do any harm. So long as the combined weight of all my gear doesn't exceed 40 kilograms or so, it should be fine."

Faber nodded. "I hear ya."

The amount of gear Stockwell wished to carry into combat was ludicrous on paper: Multiple firearms, batteries, flammable gas and air tanks, poison gas canisters, a heavy flame retardant and chemical resistant cloak, a full suit of plate-mail armor, and many, many more tricks that he kept tucked away.

The sole thing that even made the prospect doable was that all purpose enchanted alloy of aluminium. But even so, the gear was still bulky and Rhamnusia was not likely to be outrunning anyone anytime soon.

Faber stuffed the pistol piece into his apron and returned to his work.

Stockwell turned his attention then to another set of miscellaneous metal pieces. They were similar in nature to the pistol pieces, only that there were more of them and generally longer.

He examined each part closely as he assembled the weapon. He frowned. "Is there a reason why you made the resistance on the springs so strong?"

"What do you mean? Which springs?"

"The springs on the gas piston and bolt carrier. The resistance is too high. The point of a gas-operated reload mechanism is defeated if the discharge can't actually move any of the parts."

"You're delusional." Faber grunted. "There's more than enough powder in those rounds to move the bolt, and then some."

Stockwell squinted as he brought up images in his mind depicting his old war memorabilia. He honed in on the schematics of his sturmgewehr. "No, I think you're wrong. The force of the discharge might be able to overcome the resistance of the springs, but it first has to get over the inertia of the entire reload assembly-"

Stockwell's lips closed abruptly. He slowly cracked into a defeated smile. "...Oh, I'm being an idiot, aren't I?"

Faber chuckled quietly to himself.

Stockwell shook his head. "The inertia is much less since we're making everything from lighter alloys."

Faber nodded. "The extra resistance on the springs is to expedite the closing action. Might increase the fire rate that way."

Stockwell scratched his chin. "Maybe. But let's not try to make it too fast. I'd much rather trade fire rate for handibility if it comes down to it. Somewhere around 450 rounds per minute should be more than adequate."

He turned to Faber having remembered something. "Oh, and since we're on the subject of alloys, how long has it been since you last checked the arc furnace?"

Faber's eyes suddenly grew wide and he leaped to his feat. "Ah! The next batch should definitely be ready by now."

He dropped what he was doing and eagerly raced out of the workshop. "I'll go and pull it out right away!"

Stockwell smiled and returned to work.

He put the materials aside and started preparing a demonstration for someone else.

…

Vera walked entered the workshop and found Stockwell sitting at a workbench. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes. I want to show you something important." He beckoned her over to the workbench.

In front of him was an array of various metal plates and pieces.

He held up a thin grey plate. "This, Vera, is a steel plate. Pretty, simple right?"

"Right…"

"And this-" He held up a tiny, elongated copper object. "-is currently the bullet you use."

Vera nodded.

He continued. "It's 8.5 millimeters in diameter and weighs about 14 grams. It's made around a hardened steel core. Moreover, we typically load the cartridge with about 16-17 grams of nitrocellulose, so when fired, it's leaving the barrel of your rifle to what I'd assume to be around 700-800 meters a second."

He touched the tip of the bullet to the steel plate. "It can perforate 10 millimeters of steel with very little issue. And since the thickest plate armor anyone around here seems to wear really only gets to about 5 millimeters, rarely will you ever encounter an opponent who can defend against it."

"Okay… Your point?" Vera already knew at length the penetrating abilities of her rifle.

"My point, Vera, is that you will _rarely_ encounter an opponent who can defend against it, not never."

He put the steel plate back down. "There exists in this world materials much stronger than simple steel."

He looked to Vera. "Quick, what's the hardest thing you can think of?"

"-Uh." She flustered for a second. "Diamond."

Stockwell nodded. "Hmm yes, diamond, very good. If only it weren't so brittle. What's the next hardest thing you can think of?"

"That'd have to be adamantite."

"Ahh yes, of course. That ubiquitous miracle metal. Not quite as hard as diamond, but still very hard indeed." He smiled in a knowing manner. "Tell me Vera, what is it that makes things hard?"

"Umm…" Vera scrunched her forehead.

"That is to say, what determines the hardness or softness of any given material? What does it mean scientifically for a material to be hard?"

"Uhh…" Vera frowned. "I don't know… like… that's just the way things are, right? Diamonds are hard and pillows are not.".

"Charming, fräulein. But no. What determines if things are hard or soft is the a combination of their molecular geometry, and the density of their electrons."

He picked up a small diamond from the workbench and held it out for Vera to look at. He held it as though it were just any other piece of scrap metal, without any special care or reverence for the priceless gem. "Diamond, for example, is hard because the strong covalent bonds between the carbon bring the atoms very close together, which as a result, makes the electron density very high. For a diamond like this, that density is around 700 electrons per cubic nanometer."

Stockwell continued. "If the atoms of some other material were to try and perforate the diamond, their electrons would have to force their way through the dense cloud of opposing electrons surrounding the carbon atoms in the diamond. But since the bonds between the carbons are so close and strong, and the cloud is so dense, the electromagnetic interactions almost universally end up breaking the bonds in the opposing material instead. That is to say, you can't scratch a diamond with anything softer than it without it also getting broken."

He put the diamond back down on the bench. "However, that very same structure which makes diamond so hard also makes it brittle. Because the bonds are so short and strong, there is little room for plastic deformation so the moment the diamond is forced to absorb any real amount of energy, it shatters."

"Anyways. Now we come to this." He held up a plate of black-blue metal. "What makes adamantite hard?"

Vera pondered. "Wouldn't it be for the same reasons? Electron density?"

"Correct." Stockwell said. "But not exactly."

She had expected an answer like that.

"Allow me to explain." He turned the adamantite plate around in his hand. "Firstly, adamantite is not on the periodic table of elements, and moreover, it doesn't seem to be a compound of any sorts either. As far as anyone can tell, this, as it appears, is its most fundamental form."

He knocked on the plate with his bare knuckles. "Naturally, it consumed my curiosity as a nuclear chemist. After reading up on what the scholars of this world had to say about it, and conducting my own experiments for all this time, I think I can confidently say that I know more about this material than any other person on this planet."

He pressed his palm to the plate, taking note of how warm it felt compared to steel. "For starters, unlike most metals, adamantite is abysmal at conducting heat and electricity. However, the fact that it still can conduct heat and electricity at all means that it still has very 'real' electrons, and that whatever particles which constitute its mass are still subject to the basic laws of thermodynamics. Whatever form of magical matter it truly happens to be, it isn't wholly different than normal matter.

He turned the plate around. "Yet, despite having real electrons, it doesn't seem to form an oxide layer on top of it, and I was unable to get it to chemically react with anything I threw at it. Not even hydrofluoric acid did the trick."

He looked to Vera. "'But wait!' I hear you protesting-"

Vera wasn't thinking anything of the sort. She was just along for the ride at this point.

"We know from the existence of stygilight that adamantite is able to be alloyed with aluminium." He picked up another piece of metal. It was black and radiated with many dark shades of green and blue. He held up next to the adamantite or comparison. "Definitionally, this means that admanitie is capable of making metallic bonds with other metals… but not exactly."

Stockwell continued. "You see, normally when metals alloy, they form a latus of cations with each other and allow their electrons to more or less just flow freely between them, resulting in the electrical conductivity and malleability of stereotypical metals. However, remarkably, what we see is that adamantite when alloyed, actually becomes much _less_ electrically conductive and much _more_ thermally conductive than the average of its constituent parts."

He put the pieces of metal back down. "The refusal to make ionic or covalent bonds under normal circumstances... the odd nature of its metallic bonding... electrical resistivity… extreme hardness…Do you know what that means?"

Vera shook her head desperately.

Stockwell grinned. "It means that there is so much more going on inside adamantite than what meets the electron microscope. There is now more than enough evidence to implicate a secondary complex structure to adamantite atoms, that is to say, an extended nuclear structure."

He said in a way that suggested a groundbreaking discovery unrivaled in importance. But sadly, Vera hadn't a clue what he was talking about.

"It all makes sense. All these properties are explained by the concept of adamantite atoms not having a centralized nucleus" He nodded triumphantly. "It shares remarkably similar characteristics to poly-nuclear atoms such as asimovium. Its durable properties which mimic metal arise form a secondary nuclear structure which forms a complex extended latus with itself. Even its color, which can't be explained by thin-film interference due to the lack of oxides, can be explained by extended photo-nuclear iridescence."

Stockwell waved his hand. "Of course, I have no way of actually confirming its exact structure without a super computer, and ultimately, without a proper catalyst, it'll be impossible to exploit any strong force subversions it might posses in regards to forcing nuclear fusion or fission reactions."

Vera nodded to make it seem like she was listening intently, since after all, such science was far out of her purview.

"Anyways," he continued, "I'm unsure if adamantite even possesses protons and other more elementary particles. I imagine though that since we live in a world filled with magic, the positive charges in adamantite nuclei are likely intrinsically linked in someway to the same mechanisms you use to cast your own magic."

He looked to Vera. "That is to say, the existence of adamantite is tied intimately to the existence of magic in this world. But perhaps that is already instinctually obvious from my perspective as an alien to your world, but I digress."

He picked up two other plates of metal. One was the color of freshly driven snow, and shined with a brilliant white purity. The other one had a much more subdued color in contrast. It was a dull lavender, and held a subtle red iridescence.

Respectively, they were mythril and orichalcum.

"Like adamantite, both mythril and orichalcum experience a similar form of metallic bonding, and are also likely to be polynuclear. However unlike adamantite, their nodal distributions of mass are less varied, with mythril being the least varied. Incidentally, their differing structures causes orichalcum to be softer but denser than adamantite, and causes mythril to be softer than both of them and about the same density as iron."

He turned back to Vera. "Now, as cool as the science is behind all of this, I bet you're still wondering why any of this actually matters."

She fought the urge to nod vigorously.

"As mentioned previously, adamantite, orichalcum, and mythril are all very similar, but they do have some key differences. Notably, I've been focusing my attention on orichalcum."

He held up the orichalcum plate. "Because of the more nodal distribution of mass in orchalcum compared to adamantite, it was possible to more clearly ascertain its expanded nuclear structure with conventional chemical tests. From what I can tell so far, it closely mimics a quaternary system of rhenium-tungsten. So on the periodic table, it would be somewhere around 74.5."

Vera frowned. "...I thought you were getting to the part on why all of this matters."

"I am, I swear." Stockwell said. "I'm just trying to get across the idea that we now adequately understand enough of the chemistry behind orichalcum and mythril to start doing some very, very cool things."

Vera furrowed her brow. "...cool things like what?"

"Cool things like this." He smiled as he motioned his head towards the entrance of the workshop.

Vera followed his gaze. It would seem that the moment he had spoken, Faber had entered the workshop hold a small glob of plaster in between a pair of tongs.

Stockwell called to him. "Is the batch all good?"

Faber nodded proudly. "All good."

"Bring it here so Vera can see."

Faber brought the plaster glob over and gently set it on the workbench. "It's cool enough by now. The mold should just flake away."

He and Stockwell chipped away the mold to reveal an object about the size of one's fist. Stockwell wiped it clean with a cloth to reveal a strangely beautiful object.

It was an ingot of metal.

Upon first glance, Vera thought it was copper. Indeed, the metal was only a couple shades darker than the characteristic rusty-brown of elemental copper, however, as Vera moved her head and gave the workshop lights a chance to reflect off the metal, secondary hues were revealed. Sheens of dark red and purple blew across the surface of the coppery metal like wind through a field of wheat.

"I present to you, Vera dear, orichalcum tetraboride."

Her hand tentatively motioned to pick up the ingot. She looked to Stockwell and he nodded, giving her permission to pick it up.

It was warmer and slightly heavier than she expected. She rolled it around in her hands.

Stockwell withdrew a piece of parchment covered in diagrams and notes. "Density: 11.93 grams per cubic centimeter. Melting point: 2996 degrees celsius. Electrical resistivity: ~2500 Ohms per meter. Thermal conductivity: 110 Watts per meter kelvin. Thermal expansion: 4.3 micrometers per meter kelvin. Its diamagnetic… and most importantly-"

He turned to Vera, "-its very, very hard."

He showed one of the diagrams on the parchment to her. "The compound is hard because it inserts comparatively tiny atoms of boron into the otherwise mostly empty spaces within the elemental orichalcum latus, resulting in a ludicrously high electron density. It isn't as hard as diamond, but it is harder than adamantite."

He quickly began searching underneath the workbench. "But because the metallic properties of orichalcum are not solely dependent on electron structure, it maintains much of its strength after covalent bonding. It isn't brittle like diamond, far from it. It's durability is compaprable to that of just normal orichlcum."

He pulled forth a bullet and held it out to Vera. "This bullet has an orichalcum tetraboride core in it, and I have a feeling it'll go through 5 millimeters of adamantite like iron through tin."

He placed it in Vera's palm and smiled deviously. "Happy hunting."

…

The cables of the electric fence surrounding Moot hung low with slack.

Niven took note of this as he brushed passed the deactivated barrier. They would need to do maintenance on the fence whilst the electric grid was temporarily offline.

He stood at the top of the crest of the caldera and looked out across the country side. There was nothing but rolling hills in every direction as far as the eye could see.

It was a windy and dismally overcast day. The normally verdant sea of grass was dulled gray in the meager sunlight as the winds smothered it towards the ground.

He started walking around the rim of the caldera, staying near the fence. He was going to where Vera was training.

The faint gunshots he had heard in the distance grew clearer as he neared her.

He found her on a slope just barely hidden from view of the village. She was lying prone on the grass with a rifle to her cheek and a scope to her eye.

She had set up a shooting range for herself. A series of dummies standing at regular intervals acchoridained off into the distant hills away from them. She was currently aiming at target much too far away from Niven to make out clearly.

He noticed how Vera controlled her breathing so as not to throw of her aim and how she practiced extreme patience before taking a shot. He figured that she was likely trying to calculate the effects that the wind and gravity would have on the bullet's trajectory.

He spoke softly, so as to not disturb her. "Hey there, miss Vera."

Vera pulled away from her scope. "Oh, hey. What's up."

"Nothing much, I just came to collect some of your blood."

"Oh, that's nice...- What?" Vera looked at him as though she had heard something supremely bizarre.

Niven smiled tiredly and fished through his satchel. He withdrew a needle and half a dozen large vials. "Master and I need some for our research."

Her eyes searched around Niven's face for any sign of joking but found none. In fact, his face actually appeared to her as one that was particularly downtrodden. Perhaps he had had a long day thus far.

Vera didn't see any reason to protest the blood draw. "Oh… um, okay."

She sat up and rolled up her sleeve for him.

"Don't worry, we only need about half a liter." Niven briefly searched for a vein and inserted the needle. Vera flinched slightly as if went in, but it didn't really hurt that much.

She watched as her blood began to fill the vials. "...what are you researching?"

"Yeah… give me a second." Niven kept a steady hand on the needle and used his other hand to dig around once more through his satchel. He removed his journal and clumsily opened it. Several loose pieces of folded up parchment fell out.

He fumbled around for another few seconds as he went about unfolding the paper and exchanging a filled vial of blood.

He presented the paper to Vera. She recognized it as research notes. Stockwell and Niven had a way of formatting such things and she was able to pick up on the structure of the writing.

The title was written in english; Stockwell's handwriting. A translated title was written underneath. It read: _On the Biological and Magical Systems Contained Within Homosapien Magitheus._

Vera frowned. "Not a very catchy title, is it?"

Niven shrugged. "It's accurate."

He exchanged another vial of blood. "Though, he does open with a long winded passage about the differences between what he designates as the species 'Homosapien sapien' and 'Homosapien Magitheus.' Supposedly, he claims that he is a homosapien sapien trapped in the body of a homosapien magitheus. I don't really understand what he's talking about but whatever. They just seem like two different words for human to me."

Vera's lips parted with alarm.

Niven simply shrugged once more and continued. "Anyways, he goes on to describe the presence of one-dimensional particles that move throughout the flesh and are seemingly able to resist the degradation of their tissue inside the bodies of humans. But because they have zero mass and seemingly zero volume, we're only made aware of their presence by the effect they have on the flesh around them. Anyhow, because of their one-dimensional properties and their possible role in the health of tissue, we ended up naming them 'points of healing', or just health points for short. Most of the research notes concern experimentally observed properties of health point and we need your blood to-"

"-Wait wait wait." Vera interjected desperately. "Repeat what you said earlier."

"Points of healing?"

Vera shook her head. "No, not that. Earlier."

"One-dimensional particles that move through flesh-"

"-No not that! The part about Wesley being in a different body!"

"Ohhh." Niven nodded. "Yeah, I don't really know about that. He wrote something along the lines of 'my mind made the trip but my body and soul did not,' and 'only information, pure data in all its intangibility and indecipherable value is capable of crossing universes.' I don't know, I got the feeling he was trying to be poetic."

He exchanged another blood vial. "Or something like that. English doesn't really make sense a lot of the times… miss Vera?"

He looked to Vera who seemed to be lost in thought. A distant look was plastered on her face. "...the transcendent data grandfather spoke of…"

"Miss Vera, you okay?"

She shook the discontent from her face and returned to reality."-oh, yes... I-I'm fine."

Niven gave her a concerned expression.

He decided to move on when it appeared that Vera did not intended to elaborate. He switched out the last vial of blood and removed the needle from Vera's arm.

Vera glanced at Niven's face curiously. "Long day?"

"Yeah… I guess." he replied.

He began to recollect the research notes. "I think master is going a bit insane."

Vera scoffed jokingly.

"No, I mean…" Niven interrupted. "Like actually insane. I had to excuse myself."

"Why, what was he doing?" Vera layed back down into her prone positions and returned to her training.

Niven sat down next to her and stared off out into the hills. "He's making stuff off of the 'do not attempt to make under any circumstances' list."

"You had a list like that?"

Niven nodded. "There needs to be a list like that. Things can get scary in chemistry."

Vera focused her breathing and took a shot at a distant target. After the ringing in their ears caused by the initial discharge faded away, they were greeted by a distant 'plink' several seconds later. It would seem that the bullet had collided with something metal that Niven could not see.

Vera worked the bolt on the rifle and loaded another round into the chamber. "How bad can it possibly be that you'd excuse yourself though?"

"He's playing around with fluorine gas." He said it grimly, as though such a thing was self-evidently terrifying. "I don't want to get within a hundred meters of him. Says he won't be satisfied until he has an incendiary grenade that can ignite ice."

"...that does sound pretty dangerous." She decided that she'd check up on him later in case he almost hurts himself.

They sat in silence for some time and Niven gazed out over the rustling hills. The only sounds that met his ears were the cold wind and the methodical discharge of the rifle.

He looked off to the south, beyond the horizon. The Slane Theocracy was in that direction. Supposedly, Moot village was actually really close to the border, but he had never been there to confirm it or not. To the southwest, past the theocracy was the elf kingdom situated in a massive forest. They were also currently in a brutal war of extermination against the theocracy.

Even further west of them were the demi-human infested Abelion hills and the Holy Roble Kingdom.

He looked to the north. Old Re-Estize lied in that direction, the capital of the country he was born in and identified with. It was crumbling and growing dysfunctional, but everyone had already known that for several years now, even before the recent war.

He looked to the east. That was the direction of the Sorcerer Kingdom and the Katze Plains. Niven had only heard the news about what had transpired there a few days prior.

He squatted and hugged his legs to his chest. He sighed, nestling his chin into the crook of his knees. "...how bad was it?"

Vera fired another round off into the distance. Her expression iced over. "...what do you mean?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Niven looked her over carefully, trying to deduce the secrets she kept hidden in her eyes.

Vera maintained her mask. For some reason, she really didn't feel like expunging her experiences to Niven. "You're going to have to be more specific."

Niven sighed. "It had only been a week since it happened when I heard about in E-Pespel, and they're already calling it the 'Black Day of Katze'."

Vera did not visibly react and continued aiming passively down the range. He searched her face closely. "I know you and master were there. Mr. Faber told me. What happened to the kingdom?"

"Oh… that." Vera tried to shrug it off, but could only do so much to hide her feelings, and her cadence was off key. "I guess it was pretty bad."

Niven's eyes pleaded for more, but Vera did not turn to face him. He look towards the ground in defeat, and he knew he would not be getting anymore out of her. "I see…"

He bundled up close, taking shelter from the wind in the warmth of his clothes.

Moot village was under the jurisdiction of a noble residing in E-Pespel, however, because of Stockwell's bribery, the village had been spared of not only taxation, but of the draft as well. He was nineteen-years-old as of this year, and it was possible that had Stockwell not come around when he did, he may have been conscripted to fight alongside the men of the kingdom.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons why he was so curious about had happened to his fellow country men.

"...At least tell me what happened to the empire."

Vera shifted, genuinely surprised. "The empire? What do you mean?"

"I'm not stupid miss Vera." Niven said. "Chlorine, arsenic, sulfur, cyanide. Even if you three don't say it to my face, it's obvious what you were doing. Even now, you're here training with a rifle in order to better blow off people's heads, firing rounds that I made the primer for."

Vera turned away from her scope and Niven tucked his head in. "I mean… I talked to Mr. Faber, and he said I shouldn't take moral responsibility for making weapons, and I sort of agree with him…"

"A-And besides." Niven said. "I'm only helping master with his projects, not actually making weapons anyways… but it's just…"

Niven shut his eyes. "It's just that I like science so much… It's given me so much life… I feel like I can't even live without it anymore...so much so that I'm scared. Scared that, if I saw the effects of what science was helping to do, I might…"

"N-Niven?"

He began to quiver. "...I-I couldn't even keep my composure when my bacteria died...How would I react if I saw what you three were doing to people with the things that I helped make?"

Water leaked from underneath his eyelids and his hands clenched. "I-I don't know if I'd be able to live with science, and I don't know if i'd be able to live without it. But even knowing all of that-"

Niven's breathing became eradicate. "I-I…"

Suddenly, something changed.

His face flushed and all of his anxiety burst forth. His true feelings. "But I still like it! I think it's cool! I think rifles are cool! I think chemical weapons and gas masks are cool! I think giant bombs and fire are cool!"

He wheezed. "E-Even now I can barely believe how cool you look blowing fictional heads off at supersonic speeds!"

"I...I…" He trembled. "Some part of me is so morbidly curious and depraved that I just can't but help feel that I'm becoming evil! A-And I just can't stand the burden on my soul any more!"

More tears fell from his face and his sobbing mixed with the hollowing wind.

Vera paused not knowing what to do. "I…"

She set aside her rifle and did the only thing that felt natural. She wrapped her arms around him.

As Niven continued to cry, she remembered the words that Stockwell had told her as she too was crying so long ago. The words he had said to her after she had mercilessly slaughtered all of the patrons in that little Re-Estize brothel.

"...You're not evil. Violence is an inevitability in this world. You have talent Niven. Making chemicals, researching biology, doing science… It's your calling, you can't give it up no matter the reason. You need to have the strength to embrace it."

She held him tighter.

"...I just." Niven cried. "I don't understand why there has to be so many horrible things in this world."

She put her hand on his head. "It isn't all horrible… I mean, you discovered medicine because of the death of your bacteria. And electricity has given us lighting and heating… and there so much more good that you can do, like that external conduction engine or whatever and so on."

Niven laughed weakly through his tears. "...ha ha… 'internal combustion engine', miss Vera."

"Yeah, that. There's no limit to what humans can make. That's what Wesley always says."

She ran her fingers through his hair.

"And don't feel bad for the Baharuth Soldiers. I'm sure they got off light compared to what happened to us. Wesley even said he spoke with one who had been hit after the fact, so it couldn't have been that bad."

Niven nodded weakly. "...okay."

She sat with him up on the hill for along time and his tears eventually dried.

...

Vera entered the laboratory. "Niven was worried about you."

Stockwell was sitting at his workbench cautiously organizing a mixture of yellow and white powders in a small dish. He was staring through a magnifying glass, carefully using tweezers to move aside the individual grains of powder and assessing their fineness as well as the overall homogeneity of the mixture.

"That boy is just a little uneasy is all, he'll grow out of it with age."

The side of Vera's mouth dipped in a frown. "He said you were doing something 'insane' or whatever. Something about fluorine gas was it? Said you were trying to ignite ice. I came to see if you were okay."

Stockwell scoffed. "Oh please, a little fluorine never hurt anyone... Well, actually no, that's a lie. But my point still stands."

He returned to his mixing. "Chemists just have the natural tendency to hear the words 'elemental fluorine' and run for the hills. They're just overreacting is all…" He chuckled lightly. "No pun intended."

"And besides," he said, "I was being hyperbolous when I was talking about igniting water… though…" Stockwell looked up and pondered. "...now that you mention it again, I do remember hearing about strong liquid fluorinating agents, ClF3 and the like… hmm… could be interesting…"

"W-Wesley?"

Stockwell waved her off. "Anyways, I'm bold, not stupid. I don't plan on maiming myself anytime soon."

"...right."

He picked up the small dish of powders and headed towards the door. "This is more of an outdoor kind of reaction. You might want to watch it, it should be spectacular."

Vera nodded and stepped aside. She followed Stockwell out the door.

He found a small clearing outside and placed the dish on the ground.

"What is it?" Vera asked.

"It's a mixture of nickel fluoride and mythril dust." He started to lay out a piece of metal ribbon atop the dish.

"Mythril is an interesting little element. It's white coloration stems from the fact that is a near perfect diffuse reflector of light, and, unlike it's cousins adamantite and orichalcum, it's a little friendlier with other elements. I've been able to get it to react with fluorine under the right circumstances. Oh-"

He quickly ran back into the lab as though he had forgot something. He returned moment's later with a small vial of white material. "I think Mr. Faber has my torch, I'' just have to improvise with phosphorus instead."

He went back to the dish. "As I was saying, under the right circumstances, fluorine is able to get near enough to the extended mythril nucleus and engorge itself on it's shallower electron orbitals… as fluorine is known best for. However, because of the secondary shape that mythril atoms take, fluorine is forced to get very close to it as it bonds. And because of that, the enthalpy of formation is very high. That is to say, this reaction produces a lot of heat."

He carefully laid out the white material from the vial onto the dish. "Thankfully it's a cold day today, white phosphorus has a habit of spontaneous combustion."

He looked to Vera. "So anyways, all this is is a high energy thermite reaction. I suggest closing your eyes half way and only looking at it with the very edge of your peripheral vision. Brace yourself."

"Wait-"

Stockwell did something and then quickly turned his back and ran.

The dish ignited into a brilliance far outpacing any of the lightning bolts she was able to cast. She shut her eyes and still she could see clearly the outline of the fire plume though her eyelids.

And though she stood a great deal away from the tiny little dish, the heat was so great that she felt as though she were standing next to a towering bonfire.

The reaction stopped just as fast as it had begun.

"That seemed a little better than last time." Stockwell said. "I guess it really is worth the extra effort to get the mythril dust super fine-"

"-What the hell was that!?" She blinked several times to wash the stinging sensation from her eyes.

"Like I said, it was just a high energy thermite reaction. Very simple chemistry."

"...give me some more warning next time." The faded outline of the fire plume slowly disappeared from her sight. "What are you planning to even do with that stuff?"

Stockwell shrugged. "I don't know. It could have its uses as an incendiary weapon or as a component in some kind of flash-stun device."

"Is that even necessary?"

"Necessary? You don't seem to understand Vera dear." Stockwell replied. "If we were fighting mere humans, then yes, it would be overkill. Something simple like white phosphorus would be more practical and just as effective in a weapon. But were not fighting just mere humans."

He walked up to the charred and still glowing site of the thermite reaction. "We're up against more than just simple flesh and blood. These creatures possess magic and unnatural durability that defies the laws of physiology. It's much safer to treat the warriors of this world as walking, biological bunkers with concrete for skin."

He kicked apart the glowing mass of loose soot with the tip of his shoe. "Why do you think I have so many different types of poison gases? Chlorine by itself is just as deadly under normal circumstances and is by far the easiest of my chemical agents to make."

"Well uh-"

"-It's because thoroughness is a necessity. Human biology is riddled with Achilles heels: The respiratory system, circulatory system, the nervous system, the lymphatic system and so on. Everything from the epidermis down to the DNA and cellular respiration needs to function precisely in order for someone to stay alive and fight to their full capacity-"

He cracked a smile when he examined a hard lump formed in the dirt. "-Ah, how cute, the heat was enough to turn some of the dirt into glass." He cleared his throat and continued.

"Ahem… sulfur mustard, arsine, phosgene oxime, lewisite, cyanogen chloride. Blister agents, blood agents, choking agents, nettle agents… The goal is to attack as many physiological systems as possible, with as much vigor as possible to the point of extreme overkill. Throw everything you know about ld50 out the window. That is the only way it seems to be able to overwhelm these creature's capacity to resist tissue damage, these 'health points' if you will. And once they are overwhelmed, then they finally become reasonably mortal."

"So." He concluded. "Elaborate overkill is entirely necessary."

He began to laugh coldly. "And that is also why I'm cooking up a very special kind of chemical. Though, it has proved more difficult than originally expected."

"R-Right…" Vera nodded, concerned.

"Speaking of which," Stockwell said, "Because you died, it means your magical power has been reduced, right?"

Vera nodded. "Mhm. It'll take some time for me to fully recover."

"I see…" Stockwell scratched his chin. "In that case you may want to redirect your focus on more precisely controlling your magic rather than trying to increase it's scale to remain effective i combat. Oh, and I guess I'll have to re-calibrate some of the tests on your blood…"

"By the way." Vera said.

"Yes?"

"I am familiar with a small amount of combat theory that high-level adventurers use to categorize enemies and what not. Things like 'health points' and 'mana points'. I'm not knowledgeable on the specifics," Vera said, "But hearing what Niven told me, I think I can help you a little bit with your research. Knowing some of the jargon might help."

Stockwells eyes narrowed. He smiled. "That does sound intriguing. Maybe you can help-"

"-Hello!"

Both of them turned to see the blacksmith approaching them.

"Oh, Hi. Do you need something Mr. Faber?" Stockwell asked.

"Yes, actually." Faber was covered in oil stains and his face had a large toothy grin plastered on it. "Dragonfly is almost ready for testing. I just wanted your opinion on what color to-"

"-Red" Stockwell replied without hesitation.

"Red?"

"Yes, make it red. And it needs an iron cross too."

Stockwell grinned. "He he he...That combination will bless us and inspire fear in all who see it."


	24. Just Another Demon

**Since I imagine it has been a while for many of you, I think it's best I put a reminder here on some of the core canonical changes in the earlier chapters.**

 **Evileye (AKA Inberun) and the rest of Blue Rose are defeated by Rhamnusia just before the demonic disturbance gets into full swing. Evileye is the only real survivor. As a result, she flees the city and never meets Momon or Jaldabaoth.**

 **Brain also does not participate in the demonic disturbance after his fighting spirit is shattered a second time and his katana is snapped. He too, journeys away from the Re-Estize Kingdom as a result.**

* * *

Renner read the letter over many times. She couldn't help but giggle to herself. The tone was just so unexpectedly polite that she hardly even bring herself to imagine the man actually speaking that way with her.

But at the same time, she was also disappointed. She had grown to enjoy the company of Stockwell's combative personality. It often lent her the opportunity to openly and cathartically stretch out her own, uninhibited personality.

And even if she knew that Stockwell had likely not changed at all, the wording of the letter suggested that he was no longer planning on competing 'openly' with her anymore.

A strange thought passed over her. Perhaps in some part of her mind, she had considered Stockwell a friend, or perhaps just a play mate or even just a tool to stave off the crushing boredom that came with severe sociopathy and incomparable intelligence.

But it didn't really matter too much, she thought.

The promised contentment in her life would eventually come from the complete monopolization of her knight's affection and nothing more.

It just meant that she would be playing with Stockwell on a slightly different field now.

She turned to Demiurge. "The fact that he sent me such a letter indicates there has been a change of plans, no? I thought Wesley-san wasn't supposed to be leaving E-Rantel."

In short, the letter that Renner had received from Stockwell indicated a complete willingness to cooperate with the founding of the Sorcerer Kingdom and the continued seizure of Re-Estize's steel production. Or in other words, Wesley Steel Works was completely on board with operating out of E-Rantel and crippling Re-Estize's capacity for war and industry.

And though such a thing was not at all necessary in the face of the already overwhelming difference between the Sorcerer Kingdom's and Re-Estize's military strength, there were certain political repercussions and relations with other countries that such a seizure would cause. It was those repercussions that Renner and Demiurge were scheming for.

And there was also the possibility that, depending on how long Stockwell was willing to put up with the Sorcerer King's puppetry, that Wesley Steel Works and by extension the Sorcerer Kingdom could simply just end up controlling all free market steel on the continent.

Wesley Steel Work's technique for refining iron ore into steel really was that game changing. The actual gravity of it had not been fully discussed before.

Not even Nazarick could refine ore in such a way. Of course, they had NPCs capable of magically refining iron ore with just a wave of the hand, but the spell for doing so only produced a single type of steel. Granted, it was good steel, but it wasn't unique in the way that steel produced in the Grey Wolf's foundries was unique.

It was as though the Grey Wolf just simply understood things about iron that know one else could. He had the ability to alter the composition and technique of the ore refining process to produce a variety of steels tailored perfectly to any given task.

Everything from cart wheels to ship riggings to armor. And basically over night as far as economics are concerned, steel became cheaper and more abundant than iron, and the steel became better.

It was the beginning of a new era that currently only the smiths and artisans were able to pick up on.

Anyways, the Grey Wolf's inherent value as a steel trader aside, Demiurge and Renner were much more intrigued about the other side to the man.

Demiurge gazed out the window of the little tea room. "There was never a change of plans. Ainz-sama has been moving in this direction all along and I was simply too slow to catch on. I had to give him the clearance to leave E-Rantel in a hurry." He laughed lightly.

"I don't mean to sound impudent," Renner said, "but I assume that Wesley-san simply hasn't had change of heart after seeing his majesty the Sorcerer King in person."

Demiurge smirked. "If Ainz-sama had truly wished to earn that human's allegiance, he could've easily done so. No, that man is most certainly still bent on opposing Nazarick."

"So then, how have you interpreted Wesley-san's actions?"

"There is only one possible way to interpret his sudden willingness to cooperate openly with us." Demiurge smiled. "I saw in person just how perfectly Ainz-sama wrapped a net around him."

His crystalline eyes glowed in reverence. "Ainz-sama has already deduced that Rhamnusia is not the only enemy we face. Now that he has riled up this 'Wesley', Rhamnusia is now assuredly going to go out and look for allies to recruit. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' is probably what Rhamnusia is thinking."

Demiurge continued. "There is only so much Nazarick can do in the search for our true enemies if we are to remain in a state without risk. But the existence of Rhamnusia solves that problem."

His smile continued to grow. "By drawing Rhamnusia out onto the battlefield at Katze and getting him to reveal his power, our true enemies will flock to him in order to form an alliance. The powerful cannot stay hidden forever, and Rhamnusia will simply be a tool for rousing them from their hiding places."

"But what's more," Demiurge said, "Ainz-sama has perfectly evaluated Wesley's personality as a sore loser and has already entranced him into a way of thinking that will keep him bounded to the Sorcerer Kingdom. Wesley also has a colorful history of acting irrationally and impulsively, he is likely more useful in the enemy ranks than our own."

He began to chuckle. "Such is the net that Ainz-sama has cast. Wesley benefits us no matter what he does. If he stays in E-Rantel, we benefit from his company, and if he leaves to conspire with forces unknown, it furthers our progress on this secret war we've been waging. And so far," Demiurge laughed evilly, "he seems to be doing both. Either he doesn't comprehend the situation he's in, or he actually does and is simply acting out of frustration."

Renner thought it over silently. She had more less come to the same conclusion, but it was always worthwhile to hear Demiurge's take on things since he usually had more detailed information.

"By the way," Renner said, "have you come to a consensus on whether or not Wesley-san is actually Rhamnusia himself? It's obvious he has inseparable ties to him, but you've yet to tell me your precice thoughts on the matter."

Demiurge paused. He was actually still completely unsure. On one hand, nearly all of Wesley's actions have been consistent with him being the demon in the flesh. But on the other hand, Demiurge had already had several good looks in person at the human and had confirmed that there was simply no way that he could have pull off the feats that Rhamnusia had done. He couldn't even cast a single spell and his level wasn't even high enough to register on their appraisal magic.

Ainz had described Rhamnusia as a threat warranting the highest possible level of caution. And since it was impossible for Ainz to be wrong, the only option was simply that 'Wesley' was just a close subordinate of the actual Rhamnusia.

But even with all of that being said…

"...In truth, I am still unsure myself." Demiurge confessed.

Renner took a sip of tea. "Why don't you just ask his majesty?"

Demiurge felt the immediate urge to loudly reply "Don't be ridiculous!" to her face. But really, the only reason he had not already asked his ruler, who overflowed with wisdom and intellect, was because he feared coming off as incompetent.

If he couldn't even figure out something so simple, how would Ainz's opinion of him change? In the very worst case, it could be just another impetus for Ainz to leave them, just like the other 40 supreme beings.

That was the singular thing that Demiurge feared the most, and the reason why he worked so hard at everything he did.

He seamlessly regained his composure as though nothing happened. "Don't be ridiculous. I would never stoop to bother Ainz-sama with such a trivial question."

"And besides," he continued, "Such a distinction on whether or not this 'Wesley Aamon' and Rhamnusia are the same being is irrelevant at this point in the game. They are functionally the same as far as the plan is concerned, and that is all that matters."

Renner smiled softly. "Well, if you say so."

She put down her tea and went to retrieve a pen and paper. "I suppose I shall draft a few letters then. It would be troublesome if legal action is taken against Wesley Steel Works now that they are technically based in another country. Though… father has been particularly despondent after coming back from the war."

She laughed politely, which would've been sickening to anyone watching given the context.

"He may not even care anymore… maybe I should pull some strings on Onii-sama instead…"

Demiurge nodded and started to excuse himself seeing that their conversation had concluded. A [Gate] appeared before him. "I'll leave it to you then."

…

He was the triad magic caster.

The strongest wizard in all the human world… and he was beginning to lose his mind.

Fluder Paradyne lamented as he gazed hoplessley at the little glass jar. _Oh how I wish I could've been there. I should've urged him to let me go so much stronger!_

His master had cast a spell belonging to the 11th tier of magic, and he had not been there to see it. And no matter how many times he had heard the scene described to him, it gave him no solace, and only served to irk him even further. It burned like a hot stone in his gut.

But not only did he miss the chance to see his master's spell, Rhamnusia's enigmatic magic had also been on display. It was just salt in the wound.

And though it was no consolation prize, at least he had been able to get a hold of quite a few samples of the gaseous potion lingering on the battlefield afterward.

He lamented even further.

 _How does it work!?_

He gazed murderously at the fine yellow mist floating in the jar.

For the last week he had done nothing but analyse the substance. Though his specialties did not lie in alchemy specifically, he was still more than knowledgeable enough to extract the alchemical information from even high level potions.

That is what he thought, but…

 _Not being able to extract all the information from a potion made by a high level alchemist is one thing, but finding absolutely nothing at all is even harder to believe!_

Not only were his appraisal spells not extracting information, they refused to even look at the clearly visible potion in the jar. Such a thing was unheard of.

Normally when an alchemist attempted to hide the alchemical formula infused into their potions, they would cast an encryption spell to interfere with appraisal spells. It was usually a sure fire way keeping their trade secrets safe. And though alchemists who had the skill necessary to do this were rare, they were not completely unheard of.

Normally, when an appraisal spell attempted to read an encrypted potion, the spell would simply spark out and the caster would be notified. Or, if the appraisal spell was at a high enough level, it would just get past the encryption altogether.

But the encryption magic on Rhamnusia's potions was unlike anything he had ever seen. The only explanation was that the demon had somehow figured out a way to make the potion completely invisible to magic altogether.

And it really was the only explanation.

Rhamnusia had not simply remotely unenchanted the gas after the battle, since to this day, the potion was still able to poison those it came into contact with.

He had even tried to glimpse at the workings of the potion in a roundabout way by appraising soldiers coming back from the battle field, checking what their status effects were.

But the same thing happened. He couldn't find anything at all. The legionnaires covered in blisters, coughing out their lungs and dying in droves, showed no signs of being poisoned by a high level potion as far as the appraisal magic was concerned.

And it was the same story with the enchanted weapons that delivered the potion too.

The metal cylinders that they found had an explosive charge in their that launched them across a great distance, that much was easy to deduce. The explosive material however, which should've been enchanted with a fire or explosion-type magic, registered as invisible once more on his appraisal magic.

There was one other possible explanation of course, but it was just too far fetched a theory. That would be that Rhamnusia created the weapons and the gas completely out of non-magical materials.

But that was just crazy. Ludicrous even.

Ingredients found in the natural world could never have done what Rhamnusia's poison gases had done. Blistering of the skin, suffocation, blindness, vomiting, convulsions… every conceivable type of poison induced death under the sun was present, from the quick and merciful to the slow and painful. Of all the poisons he had seen, Rhamnusia's were undoubtedly unmatched in cruelty and efficacy.

It only made him want to figure them out more.

Fluder slammed his head into the table in frustration.

He had tried asking his master, the god who ruled over all that was magic, what he could do about it. But just as it was with his other magic lesson, his master's words were cryptic and near indecipherable to his mere mortal ears.

He tried to growl at his own powerlessness, but all it did was morph into a anxious sigh.

He estimated he would only have a few more days at most to study the gas.

All of Rhamnusia's gases seemed to possess the odd property of decomposing over time, which did not happen in normal potions. Of the five colors of gasses found on the battlefield, only the one currently in front of him still retained its ability to poison those it came into contact with. But it too was weakening and would soon be rendered harmless.

He sighed once more.

Emperor Jircniv wanted a counter measure to the weapons and a cure to the poison as soon as possible. Many of the legionnaires who escaped with their lives had ended up developing debilitating conditions that would forever keep them from returning to their duty as soldiers if left uncured.

But so far, the only answer Fluder could provide him was simply the advice to not get hit by the weapons in the first place.

Without being able to analyze the gas directly, a true counter spell would be many years away, if it all.

...

The innermost reaches of the Slane Theocracy, all twelve of them cleaned tirelessly.

The Pontifex Maximus. The Six Cardinals. The heads of the Judicial, Legislative and Executive branches. The head of the research institute. And the Grand Marshal.

Though they had all convened in the inviolable sanctum not too long ago and the place still glowed with cleanliness, their faith demanded that they clean it anyways.

Despite their ranks as the highest authorities of the nation, they cleaned with nothing but their humble armpower as though they were mere servants. Grit and humility was the simple truth expected of them.

The lined up before the six statues looming over the room and lowered their heads. The Pontifex Maximus spoke the traditional words. "Today, we give thanks to the gods that human beings like ourselves are still alive. Thus do we offer our thanks."

The cleaned the meager dust from their clothes and took to the table as equals.

"Then, let us begin the meeting."

They had convened not too long ago to discuss the sudden appearance of powerful beings in the Re-Estize area. Honyopenyoko, Momon, Jaldabaoth, Rhamnusia, and especially Ainz Ooal Gown and his newfound Sorcerer Kingdom.

They had covered all they could've in that meeting with the information they had on hand. It had all been speculation for the most part since their information had mainly come from one off personal accounts and the scryings of the Thousand Leagues Astrologer who now sat traumatized her room.

As a result, the clearwater scripture had been deployed to gather more detailed information.

The meeting today had been organized by the cardinal of water, Ginedine Delan Guelfi, so the others assumed that he must've undercovered something important requiring immediate attention. After all the shriveled old man's intellect was second to none.

"I will spare all of you and get straight to the point."

He revealed a small envelope. "We received a letter. It was handed to an operative investigating a tip off in Re-Estize. It is addressed to all of us."

"Who is it from?"

"Rhamnusia. Its authenticity has already been confirmed."

All of the men's eyes narrowed in concern and understanding. It was well known at this point that along with the massacre of the Re-Estize army on the Katze plains by Ainz Ooal Gown, the Baharuth army was also decimated, losing over half of their men. Rhamnusia was the culprit behind that one.

Killing 35,000 highly trained legionnaires was far from an insignificant feat, and was comparable Ainz Ooal Gown's slaughter of 200,000 peasant conscripts and Gazef Stronoff. So in other words, Rhamnusia's power was not to be looked over.

They had speculated during their last meeting that the demon was not likely working with Ainz Ooal Gown, considering that they had been on opposing sides during the battle. However they could not be sure of it, just like how they could not be sure of Momon's true allegiance and of Jaldabaoth's real motivation.

It was still entirely possible that Rhamnusia and Ainz Ooal Gown were simply working together to slaughter mortals more efficiently.

"What does the letter say?"

They had not made dialogue with Ainz Ooal Gown, Momon, or anyone of note yet, so this letter would likely contain vital information for figuring out just who was on who's side, and provide a vital clue for figuring out how to navigate the typhoon they all saw gathering on the horizon. All the more so since it had sounded like Rhamnusia was the one taking the initiative to contact them.

He opened the letter. He had already examined it many times over before coming to the meeting.

Firstly, it was written in the Slane Theocracy's script and with normal ink and paper.

If he had been forced to guess based on the handwriting alone, he would say it was written by a woman's hand. It was also written in an aged style that used punctuation and accent techniques standard to old academic documents.

The letter's content however, was in a relatively more freeform and casual tone. Putting two and two together, he came to the conclusion that the letter was probably dictated by Rhamnusia and was penned by a woman who was only familiar with Slane texts written in a non-conversational style.

He read aloud to the room. The letter went as follows:

" _Dear Dozen or so Fine Men of the Cloth,_

 _It is with great urgency that I write to you. Consider this letter a fateful warning._

 _As of the founding of the Sorcerer Kingdom, I have witnessed in person three times the power of the Sorcerer King, his pet demon Jaldabaoth, and his lapdog Momon. And I can state with confidence that the prognosis for those infected with the urge to resist him is not very promising._

 _Moreover, the Re-Estize Kingdom is already lost to him. The royal family and the eight-fingers are at his mercy, and there is no longer a faction capable of opposing him there. I imagine the Baharuth Empire too is already under his sway given their involvement in the recent war._

 _I do not know the specifics of what counter measures you possess for combating the undead, but I know that they are not enough. As is, I estimate that your country, which stands as the strongest and last bulwark of human sovereignty, will eventually too be crushed under the hoof of Ainz Ooal Gown within the next ten years._

 _And so It is with a heavy heart that I regret to inform you, that homosapien magitheus, or 'the human race' as we so lovingly call it, has now been moved to the endangered species list._

 _Now, even supposing you actually believe me word for word and are open minded enough to comprehend the full extent of Ainz Ooal Gown's power, I imagine you lot will still try to undermine, resist, or destroy him._

 _...Likely down to the very last man._

 _And though not evolutionarily sound, I can respect that depth of spiteful defiance intrinsic in the human character. If nothing else, it certainly makes for good story._

 _But even still, good story will not keep you all alive._

 _I have seen enough and I assure you, you can not win this game against Ainz Ooal Gown. You can not win with magic, you can not win with martial arts, you can not win with mystic artifacts, you can not win with faith, and you can not win with clever diplomacy._

 _Even if you play absolutely perfectly into every single card you hold, hidden or otherwise, and exploit every possible resource you have to their maximal theoretical effect, you still can not win._

 _For you see, this is not a competitive game of merit where victory is always within theoretical reach. Instead, this game is a horribly unbalanced trash heap created by a shitty developer where the only mathematical criteria for victory is how much magical power said developer decided to give you upon your birth._

 _And I assure you once more, the human race and the Slane Theocracy are not on the mathematically favorable side of the equation._

 _And so, you are doomed._

 _But,_

 _Not precisely. There is meaning in your damnation._

 _I have suggestion. A revolutionary idea for your world. If Fate has damned you to an unwinnable game, simply refuse to play it as intended. If said game is coded to be literally unbeatable, well, quite frankly, your only option is to hack it. Cheat._

 _Coincidently, humans just so happen to be the only race I know of capable of finding bugs in the mechanics of the universe and figuring out how to exploit them. Finding loopholes in God's creation is truly a riveting profession, only fit for those made in his image, but I digress._

 _I Rhamnusia, have in my possession the keys to upsetting the chess board; our only shot at suckerpunching that unfeeling god._

 _But only the keys._

 _I regret that I can not do it on my own._

 _I require the cooperation of a populous and resource rich nation in order to set this plan into motion._

 _The Elven nation won't do due to that mad king of theirs and their limited resources. The Roble and Draconic Kingdoms are too politically unstable. And Re-Estize and Baharuth are out of the question for reasons mentioned previously. The only two nations who can possibly take on a task of this scale are the Argland Council State and you, the Slane Theocracy._

 _And between those two option, I trust you the most, the nation of humans. Because one could say that I understand your condition better than anyone else. I am the demon you spawned, after all._

 _So,_

 _I formally request an audience with all of you, to discuss the fate of mankind. Send your reply with the same agent whom you've received this letter from._

 _Warm regards,_

 _Rhamnusia._

 _P.S._

 _If you should all decide to deny me an audience, or outright ignore this message, do not expect me to just to go away. I will make it my personal mission to annoy you as much as possible until you come around to reason. And I am not above bruising your nation if that is what it takes._

 _Ainz Ooal Gown must not go on without a worthy opponent. And though he doesn't deserve it, we at least owe it to ourselves to give him one._

 _I am through with giving up. I am immune to dissuasion._ _Grüße aus Earth."_

After he concluded the letter, he looked around the table. There were many different kinds of expression, but none of them were relief.

There was a lot to unpack.

Several seconds of silence passed as they all thought over the letter's implications.

"It's hyperbole." Was the first thing one of them said.

That seemed to be the general consensus.

" _As is, you will be crushed under the hoof of Ainz Ooal Gown within the next ten years."_

" _The human race has been put on the endangered species list."_

They were all very much aware already that their world was as fragile as a little boat which has been tossed into the ocean. And knew as well that there might be a typhoon every 100 years or so.

Their written history was nothing if not meticulous, so they were not so closed minded to think that they could never face real danger.

However, the tone of Rhamnusia's letter suggested something blown out of realism. Not something that could merely defeat their Gods, but something that could swat them away as though they were nothing.

"I think we can all agree that even if these claims are grounded in truth, they are blown entirely out of proportion."

Everyone nodded.

That was the only rational conclusion, or rather, if the opposite happened to actually be true, then there would be no point in discussing in the first place. Thus, the only rational conclusion.

Planning under the pretext that planning is futile defeats the purpose.

"Then where do you suppose Rhamnusia fits into all of this himself?"

"... At the very least, I think it's safe to say that the theory we discussed last time has been confirmed. Ainz Ooal Gown, Jaldabaoth, that Vampire, and Momon are all allied…"

"So we're all just going to automatically assume that Rhamnusia is telling the truth? We already discussed this. Momon slew the vampire and stood against Jaldabaoth. After that, he negotiated a truce with the Sorcerer King and became his ally only to maintain peace. That's still the most likely scenario, not this 'lapdog' that Rhamnusia said. "

"No, if you remember what we actually discussed, we also considered the possibility that they were all working together from the beginning and that we needed more information to come to a consensus. This seems to be that conclusive information."

"Supposing that Rhamnusia is not also allied to the others and that he isn't lying to us."

"If there really was an alliance between the five of them, then Rhamnusia wouldn't have sent us a letter explicitly revealing that to us."

"He could just be trying to lead us astray. To confuse us."

They all collectively pinched their foreheads in frustration, they would get no where so long as they kept arguing hypotheticals.

"Because this is the only explicit information we have received so far, our first priority should be in deducing the credibility of its writer. That is to say, under what pretext is a demon writing to us for aide?"

They thought for a moment.

"...He seems to be desperate. Perhaps Ainz Ooal Gown is chasing him and he is scared that he might be killed. That would explain the fear mongering."

"That is good theory."

"That would also explain the tone of the second half; 'suckerpuncing that unfeeling god'. He seemed more concerned about getting back at Ainz Ooal Gown then helping humanity, which according to him is doomed."

There were a few nods around the table. "In a way, that makes his words more believable. It wouldn't make sense for a demon, who are the embodiments of sin, to go out of their way to save humans. It's much more believable that he is deigning to work with us for the sake of destroying his enemy."

"That should make responding to him easy then."

They all looked to the one who spoke. He continued.

"He intends to use the Slane Theocracy as a tool. After we help him defeat our common enemy, he'll simply turn around and try to destroy the entire nation. In other words, as long as we're able to deal with the situation by ourselves, then there is no reason at all to let a powerful demon into the country."

"...that is, assuming we can deal with the situation ourselves." It was the head of the research institute that had spoken. He often played the devil's advocate at these meetings. It wasn't the most pleasant role to play, but everyone at least understood the importance of the role and respected him all the same.

"I have faith that we can deal with the situation." Someone else said. "The fact that Rhamnusia tried so hard to scare us in the letter suggests that the situation really isn't that dire. He's simply trying to scare us into giving him what he wants."

They all nodded. A clearer picture of the true scope of things was coming into view in their minds.

Many showed signs of relief.

"So, if we take what we know so far, it is likely the Rhamnusia made an enemy of Ainz Ooal Gown and is on the run from him. If we ignore him, then Ainz Ooal Gown will likely just kill this demon for us."

"And after fighting Rhamnusia, hopefully Ainz Ooal Gown will be in a weakened state and we can then finish him off."

One of the raised their hand. "Let us not get ahead of ourselves. We still don't know the full extent of the power of his subordinates. Let us just be calm for now."

They sighed in disappointment. Though, their disappointment was only on the surface level. The could see the makings of rays of hope, peeking through the clouds, and the feeling that gave them was overwhelmingly relieving.

"I assume then we know how to respond to Rhamnusia?"

"Bar him from setting foot in this country and wish him luck in hurting Ainz Ooal Gown as much as possible."

It was a near unanimous decision. But they were nothing if not thorough.

"The post scriptum… he mentions that he is 'not above bruising our nation' should we deny him. He is capable of killing over three Baharuth legions in a single battle. Making an enemy of him isn't exactly ideal."

They pondered once more, but were ultimately unswayed. "We can assume from the letter that Rhamnusia is weaker than Ainz Ooal Gown. If we cannot even deal with him, then we cannot even hope to deal with the Sorcerer King. Likewise, if we willingly let Rhamnusia, who is an enemy of Ainz Ooal Gown, into the country and allow him to work on this 'project' of his, then that would just provoke the Sorcerer King to attack us outright. The causes belli for that wouldn't even be that unsound. If worse came to pass, we'd have a treacherous and powerful demon at our back and an even more powerful undead at our front."

The reasoning was solid enough. There were no objections.

They turned back to the cardinal of water. "Guelfi, would you be willing to compose our reply? We trust you know the right words."

"I had assumed that I would be doing that already. Of course."

"Good."

There was a lull in the the conversation.

Someone eventually asked the question that had been bugging them. "...what did he mean by that? When he said: 'I am the demon you spawned'."

They all frowned.

"The name Rhamnusia has appeared in story before."

"Has it?"

About half of them nodded. "Yes, I think I remember hearing that name before, when I was much younger."

"The name originates from a short story in the Gospel of Dale in the Book of Fire." It was the cardinal of fire, Berenice Nagua Santibi, who had spoken.

They all turned to her. "Oh yes! That does sound familiar."

Santibi continued. "He's depicted as a demon who judges mortals filled with pride. He is fair and just in the beginning, but Rhamnusia himself eventually becomes corrupt with pride in his role as judge and starts to abuse his power. He begins burning villages that refuse to bow down to him. Soon, the Great God of Fire appears before him and informs the demon of his evil acts, demanding that he stop.

Rhamnusia refuses to stop and declares that the Great God is being prideful for thinking he is able to decide what is good and evil. Rhamnusia attempts to fight, and then is of course cast into holy flame."

They all released a collective "oooh!". They all recognized the story now that it had been retold.

"That's the story as it first appears in scripture. It's quite short, spanning less than a dozen verses ." Santibi said. "But over the centuries it has morphed and branched out into many different stories. Nowadays, the name Rhamnusia is mostly just an echo appearing in secular fairy tales since the modern liturgy rarely discusses the Gospel of Dale."

The others nodded in agreement to each other, perhaps making mental notes to re-read that section of one of their holy books. They looked to one another. "...So the question is, what is Rhamnusia doing here?"

They turned back to the cardinal of fire since she was the one most intimately familiar with the holy texts concerning Rhamnusia.

She simply shrugged. "St. Dale's writings have been known to be more in metaphorical than in not. Little is known about the exact ways that the demonic realms function and how demons are birthed, other that they are created from mortal sin. So all demons, weather they are written about in scripture or not, tend to appear in our world without rhyme or reason anyways, such as was the case with the evil deities."

They sighed collectively. They hadn't learned too much about Rhamnusia, but at least it could be said that they didn't learn anything about Rhamnusia that would've indicated he was a threat the Theocracy had not been able to overcome in the past.

"So really," one of the men said, "We can treat Rhamnusia as though he is just another incarnation from the demonic plane and can be dealt with just like any other demon. Our reply to him has not changed."

"Precisely."

And so, the moved on to other pressing matters.

...

The City of a Thousand Waterfalls, the Desert's Jewel, the home of Platinum Dragon Lord, the Tree in the Center of the World, the Great City in the Sky, Eryuentiu. There were many names for the ancient city. It's architecture was grand and its history even more so. But Brain was never interested in all that scholarly nonsense, all he needed there was to do some business with the people who lived beneath the flying city.

It had been a tedious journey across the desert, but it had been a successful one thus far.

His newly reforged katana hung ready at his side. He thanked the golden princess in his heart since he would not have been able to acquire the funds necessary to repair his sword without her help otherwise.

After he had finished his business, he had trekked out into the night going west moment he was able. He was currently a man on a mission.

The metropolis sparkled dimly in the night behind him, now just a shiny dot on the horizon. In front of him spread a dark landscape of sand dunes, lit by nothing but the stars and a waning crescent moon.

He struggled to read the note in his hand through the darkness. _That old crone was unnecessarily cryptic with these directions. It's like she's just trying to play a prank on me._

The note read:

"March westward, into the night, till city founded on the back of royal greed is as a star in the sky.

From there you shall see, the necromantic ring, a circle of bone and the apple of your eye.

Do not approach without the key, or saunter cross the bounding line.

If you fail to make light of the darkness, you will surely die."

Brain squinted at the dark landscape, but nothing resembling a "circle of bone". He thought that Perhaps he should've waited until it was a full moon out. _But that would've taken to long! And I don't remember her giving me any kind of key._

He glanced back behind him, indeed, the city looked like nothing but a star on the horizon. He sighed and continued to march forward. He shouted into the empty desert. "You here you old crone!"

All he got as a reply was the cold desert wind. He muttered to himself, "...I'm going to be wandering this desert all week aren't I? ...Crappy necromancer, I swear, the moment I find you I'm going to-"

As if Rigrit heard him, Brain found himself immediately tripping over something hard. He face planted into the ground and took in a mouthful of sand.

He sat up and spat out the course material. "Pleah! What the hell?"

The object he had tripped over was covered in a deep layer of sand. He brushed it off to get a better look, but it was hard to see what it was in the darkness so he felt it with his hands. "... what is this?"

It was hard and smooth, but he couldn't quite make out it's shape. He felt around it some more. It was hollow and had two large holes in it. _...It feels almost… like a skull? Hey! Wait a second-_

He was proven right almost on cue. Two ghostly lights appeared within the skull's eye sockets and it floated out of the sand. Several of more lights appeared some distance away, forming a great circle around him.

"Oh boy…"

The skull rose to head height and a translucent body formed underneath it.

"You know, Rigrit. If you wanted a rematch, you could've just asked nicely."

He smirked and drew his katana.

…

Rigrit put her palm to her face and closed her eyes. She sighed deeply. "So all four of them… that's disheartening."

She thought over the long story that the little vampire girl had just told her. It was quite the story. "Did you try to get their bodies back?"

"I tried." Inberun said, "But Tia and musclehead were gone when I went back to look. And I didn't want to stick around and alert Rhamnusia or Jaldabaoth that I was still alive… so..."

Rigrit nodded pensively. "I understand… I will honor their loss."

The air in the little sandstone bunker was dry and heavy with solemnity.

Rigrit leaned back in her rickety wood chair that looked to be over a hundred years old. "Rhamnusia… where have I heard that name before?"

"It gomes from a fairytale," Inberun supplied, "He's a demon that punishes mortals for trying to be like god or claim the power of gods, for hubris, in a sense. But that's just a fairytale. There's no evidence of such a being actually existing."

"So you think that this Rhamnusia is just using that name for himself?"

"I don't know. Probably… I think… At least, he didn't act like how the story portrays him at all. He was cocky and didn't stop taunting us for even a second. Not exactly humble for someone whose tale is all about the virtues of humility. Absolute hypocrite"

"I see..." Rigrit replied.

"He even had the gall to claim to know how my magic worked." Inberun spat. "Said I used something called 'silica' or some shit like that."

"Hmm… interesting." Rigrit retreated deep into thought. She closed her eyes and became like a statue.

"Hello? You there?" Inberun prodded her but Rigrit remained immovable. "...Tsk, old hag."

Inberun took the time to examine the little sandstone room. She looked around at the walls in the dim candle light. There were dozens of mystic artifacts: Maps, drawings, magical vessels and tools. She recognized many of them from her time adventuring with the thirteen heros.

She remembered how Rigrit and the others had saved her from a life of hiding in the shadows as "Landfall the Vampire Lord." It was so long ago now. Once Rigrit finally reached the end of her lifespan, then she and Platinum Dragon Lord would be the only two remaining. Time had a way of blowing away achievements and washing away history, of turning even the greatest empires, those that last more than 10,000 to just pages in a history book.

Even to this day, she still wasn't sure if vampirism and it's immortality was a gift or a curse. At the very least, she wish she could've been turned into a vampire when her figure was a little more developed.

Rigrit's voice broke her thoughts. "I'm not quite sure of it yet, Inberun. Poison fog… red vapor… a weapon that spits fire and metal… silica… Kinds of magic that did not operate according to the rules of magic. Things that make little sense to us."

"Any thoughts?"

"Leader often said things that made little sense to us."

Inberun paused. "...Leader…you think that he and Rhamnusia..." She trailed off.

Rigrit's old features shifted into a smile. She was remembering the days when her face was looked so much younger. "Ahh, he was such a lovely young man. So lost at times, but always so kind. He sure did change, for better or worse." She drew her sword halfway out of its scabbard and stared at it lovingly.

Inberun rolled her eyes. "You like that sword too much."

"Well, it's his after all."

Inberun crossed her arms, "It isn't even that good a sword...Senile hag…"

"Oh don't be like that, crybaby." Rigrit said. "Now make yourself presentable, we have company."

"Excuse me?"

There was a loud thumping on the walls of the the room followed by the muffled voice of a man. "Hey! Granny! You in there?"

Rigrit laughed lightly to herself. "Yes yes, hold on child." She waved her hand and the sandstone bricks making up the walls magically shifted their positions, opening an entry way into the room.

Brain stumbled in. "...*huff*...*puff*... 17 ghasts. You don't treat guests very nicely… *puff...not like Gazef at all." He feel supine to the floor, exhausted.

Rigrit smiled playfully "Well if you had just payed attention to the riddle or to the circle instead of crossing it like a moron, you would've saved yourself a lot of trouble."

"You cheated… *huff… no one could possibly see that circle covered in all that sand. And you didn't even bother to give me a key."

"Bwahaha!" Rigrit Laughed heartily. "What ever happened to that sporting spirit of yours?"

Brain laughed tiredly. "You can't just be satisfied with a draw can you, Rigrit?"

"And I doubt you can either, Brain Unglaus."

Inberun raised an eyebrow. "Brain Unlagus? I feel like I've heard that name before."

Brain suddenly found himself looking upward at a pair of eyes. His heart skipped a beat.

These were not the eyes of a human. These were the eyes of a predator; deep red, the color of blood. The eyes of a vampire.

He instinctively sprang to his feet and attempted draw his sword. "Vampire!" Images of Shalltear Bloodfallen flashed through his mind. He unsheathed his sword and struck at Inberun in one motion. His blade did not harm the girl however.

Inberun's reflexes had allowed her to put up a defense in time. Brain's blade creaked and whined as it dug into a translucent layer of crystal coating the vampire's skin. "Why you…" Inberun began to ready another spell.

Rigrit drew her own sword and pried Brain's blade away from Inberun. "Brain-kun, calm down! She's my friend-"

Brain's pupils struggled to refocus. "She's-"

Rigrit struggled with Brain, her sword and his katana locked together. She figured that the warrior was not actually in the right mind, otherwise he could've easily disarmed her by now. "-She's not an enemy. She's Evileye of Blue Rose. The Adamantite Adventurer."

"She- what..."

Brain's eyes drifted over Inberun, focusing clearly now. Unlike Shalltear Bloodfallen, Inberun's pupils were round and not slit. She was also shorter, and her hair was blonde. He withdrew his blade.

Inberun scoffed at him and stopped her spell. "The first thing you do when you see a vampire is attack them? Rude, and offensive. Racists like you are why I have to wear a mask all the time. You'd think that with a name like 'Brain' you'd be smarter."

"Not now, Inberun." Rigrit replied.

Brain calmed down and sheathed his sword. He took a deep breath and sat back down on the floor. "... warn me next time... wrinkly old witch."

Rigrit smiled tiredly. "Brain-kun, this is Inberun, an old friend of mine. But you probably know her as Evileye of Blue rose."

Rigrit turned to Inberun. "Inberun, this is Brain Unglaus, someone I met before I left Blue Rose. He's a skilled swordsman. You two should get along well."

Inberun recoiled. "I'm not shaking his hand."

"Hold on-"

"-Good, I wasn't planning on making nice with a vampire either." Brain layed back down on the floor without looking back at either of them. "Evil-eyes is right… I also thought all the Blue Roses were killed... "

"Don't be like that you two." Rigrit looked back and forth between them. It was clear that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other.

She sighed resignedly. "Okay. Feel free to act like two-year-olds. Brain-kun, it's late so why don't you rest and we can talk in the morning." She waived her hand once more and left through an opening in the wall.

...

They gathered the next morning.

"More coffee, Brain-kun?"

"Please." Brain held out his cup and Rigrit obliged. "And, would it kill you to stop calling me 'kun'? I'm a grown man, Rigrit-san."

Rigrit chuckled. "I'm old woman Brain-kun. Even if you lived a hundred more years you'd still be a child to me."

The walls moved and Inberun entered the room. "You're up early shit-for-Brains."

Brain coldly averted his eyes, "Says the undead who never needs to sleep."

Inberun sat down at the table.

The atmosphere of the room shifted. Despite their topical attitudes, everyone was still very much ready to get straight to business.

"So, Brain-kun." Rigrit said, "What compelled you to come all the way out here? Not many people trek out to the middle of the desert on a whim."

"I'm in need of advice, and you're the only person I could think of who might be able to help me."

"Advice?" Rigrit raised an eyebrow. "What exactly happened?"

And so Brain told them everything. Everything from his encounter with Shalltear Bloodfallen to his fight with Rhamnusia.

...

"-It was also conveniently close to Eryuentiu so I was able to get my katana repaired. And so now I'm here." Brain finished his story and looked back up to the two women.

Rigrit exchanged a few glances with Inberun.

It was the vampire who spoke. "Before you ask, no, I don't know anyone named Shalltear Bloodfallen. If you're trying to find her then I'd suggest getting in contact with that new adamantite adventurer, Momon I think his name was. Apparently he's a vampire hunter, killed one named Honeyhoney...pokopoko… or something like that."

Inberun turned to Rigrit with an intense fire in her eyes. "But if you're looking for Rhamnusia…"

Brain saw the look in Inberun's eyes. "Is there something I should know about?"

Inberum scowled. "It was Rhamnusia who killed my teammates on the night of the demonic disturbance. Not Jaldabaoth."

Brain nodded in understanding. Even if he was talking to a vampire, he was now at least humble and understanding enough to respect another person's loss. "Sorry for your loss."

"I don't want you condolences shit-for-Brains." Inberun spat. "I want vengeance after the way he treated us."

Brain frowned. "Sorry… but there's no need to be rude about it. I owe that demon some payback as well. But before we do anything, we need to figure more out about him."

They both looked to Rigrit. The old woman nodded. "I was discussing the topic with Inberun before you got here Brain-kun. I've come to suspect that this demon of yours may actually be more than just a simple demon."

"Well I could've told you that you old crone." Brain replied.

"She didn't mean it like that." Inberun corrected. "... I guess, it's a little bit different than that. You didn't fight him for as long as I did so you probably couldn't tell. But, he's _different_ different. What I mean is that he didn't play by the rules."

"What the hell is that to mean?"

"Help me out here, Rigrit."

Rigrit closed her eyes and thought deeply. "I'm unsure. I think It's best that we consult Tsa. If it is true that Rhamnusia is like Leader than it is only right that Tsa be involved."

"Oh god do we have to? I haven't seen him since we learned the truth. It'll be really awkward." Inberun protested.

"It'll be fine, crybaby. I'm sure he'd be overjoyed to see you."

"Who's Tsa?" Brain asked.

"He's friendly," said Rigrit, "Come on, he lives in Eryuentiu."

Brain was disheartened by that statement. "I was just there. You're really going to make us walk all the way back?"

"He lives in the flying part, Brain-kun." Rigrit chuckled. "Besides, we won't be walking."

She went to one of the many artifacts lining the walls of the little room, an object resembling a large iron ring. She took it in her hand and said something under her breath that Brain could not discern. Perhaps a magic word or phrase. The ring grew several times its size and a translucent membrane of colors appeared within it.

It was unmistakably a portal.

"Come along now."

…

The portal deposited them inside a closed corridor just outside a large set of ornate doors.

Brain looked around, mystified. "So we're in the flying city itself then?"

The palace's blue indoor architecture was lofty and elegant, credence to the fact that it had once been the palace of the Eight Greed Kings who ruled the continent hundreds of years ago.

"We're not here to sight see Brain-kun. Tsa's just through here, follow me."

Rigrit pushed open the large doors.

They entered into a truly colossal circular chamber. It's ceiling was so high that when Brain tried to find it, he was surprised at how he kept having to strain his neck further and further upward just to see it.

And, resting peacefully on a raised platform at the room's center, was a beast of mythic proportions. A true dragon lord.

He looked almost like an ornate sculpture. As though an artist crafted him from platinum, silver, and aquamarine. His exposed underbelly glowed a faint light blue whilst his white scales sparkled so brightly as to create the illusion of him being surrounded by a radiant aura.

To Brain who'd only heard the beast's name thrown around once or twice, it was still immediately clear on appearance alone exactly who this dragon was. "...Platinum… Dragon Lord."

And he practically radiated power. Dare he say, even comparable to Sebas and Shalltear Bloodfallen.

He wondered for a moment as to how the dragon had managed to fit through the door. Then he realized that the room was currently being lit by a ray of sunlight...streaming through a dragon-sized hole in the ceiling.

Before he could figure out exactly what kind of manners to assume before the ancient beast, Inberun had already started to approach and Rigrit basically dragged him after her.

The dragon stirred.

"Back so soon, Rigrit?" His voice echoed clearly through the chamber. It was lighter and more elegant than one would've initially presumed from a creature of that scale.

Platinum Dragon Lord raised his neck at the newcomers. "Oh? Could it be…"

"Yeah… It's me." Inberun said.

Though it was hard to see, Platinum dragon Lord most definitely had a wide smile on his face and his eyes sparkled with happiness. "After all these years… Would it be safe to say you haven't changed a bit, Inberun?"

"Hey, that's not funny." And though she said as much, Inberun couldn't help but crack a smile at her old friend's joke. "Hi Tsa… I guess it's been a while."

Inberun's eyes fell upon a beat up suit of armor in the corner of the room. Her expression saddened. "Though… I guess Tsa isn't really your name, Platinum Dragon Lord."

"Oh come on crybaby," Rigrit said. "It's been 200 years and your still holding a grudge over that?"

"Rigrit…" Platinum Dragon Lord turned to Inberun. "I understood what it meant for all of you, to deceive you in such a way, and I understand if you still wish to hold it against me… I deeply regret that I was not more truthful. But, the fun we had adventuring together was not deceit. I wish for you to call me whatever you feel is right."

Inberun and Platinum Dragon Lord looked into eachothers eyes for several seconds. Then, after what seemed like a very long time, Inberun did something almost out of character for her; she smiled and looked away bashfully. "Sheesh… you can stop giving me that look… Tsa."

Rigrit and Platinum Dragon Lord smiled to themselves.

Then, Platinum Dragon Lord turned his attention to Brain. "The same familiarity is not extended to you, however. I do not recognize you, what is your name?"

Brain quickly went down to one knee, as was proper when addressing someone who radiated such power and magnificence. "It's Brain Unglaus, Lord Platinum Dragon… uh, Lord...sama."

Inberun laughed snidely to herself.

Platinum Dragon Lord chuckled lightly, but it was much more of a humorous laugh than an arrogant one. "Rigrit, who is this?"

"He's a friend of ours, and a skilled swordsman. I figured it would be best to have him along."

"Then there's no need to be so formal here, Brain-kun." Platinum Dragon Lord replied. "A friend of Inberun and Rigrit is a friend of mine. And besides, the honorific is already in the name, it sounds silly when people call me as such. There's no need to overthink it."

Brain smiled ruefully and stood up. "If you insist, Platinum Dragon Lord."

Platinum Dragon Lord nodded. "So then Rigrit, overjoyed as I am to see Inberun, this doesn't seem like a simple social call. Do you have information on the guild weapons?"

Rigrit shook her head. "It's not that. It concerns the centennial aftershocks."

Platinum Dragon Lord closed his eyes in acknowledgment. He let out a long and heavy breath. "...indeed, the power which stains the world."

Inberun stayed silent.

Brain looked around confused.

"Tsa, I believe that Brain-kun may have fought with the vampire you spoke of."

"I may have what now?" Brain gave a look of surprise to Rigrit, "You mean…" He shivered, "Shalltear Bloodfallen?"

Platinum Dragon Lord turned to Brain. There was urgency in his voice. "Describe this vampire you found."

"You want me…" He didn't wish to recall the images of Shalltear Bloodfallen seared into his mind, but he felt everyone staring at his with great importance. He did the best he could. "-Ahem… from what I remember, she was short, maybe looked fourteen or fifteen. Wore a dark purple dress… silver hair."

Platinum Dragon Lord nodded his head slowly up and down. "I see… so her name was Shalltear Bloodfallen."

Brain was amazed. "So, you met her, and lived!?" He caught himself. "I mean, of course one such as you would be able to fight her."

"I'm not so sure of that." Platinum Dragon Lord replied. "I encountered her only in passing. But I've seen enough of her to make me doubtful of my ability to defeat her should fate have us fight once more in earnest. Regardless…" He stretched his neck towards Brain, "I am surprised _you_ survived, Brain Unglaus."

Brain clutched his head and smiled a slightly insane smile. "Yeah, you and me both. To this day I'm still not sure how I managed to escape."

"Then tell me, Brain-kun." Platinum Dragon Lord's head drew very near, to the point at which Brain could feel the air blowing in and out of the dragon's nostrils. "Was she evil?"

"Excuse me?"

"I don't mean to ask if she was despicable or simply unpleasant. I mean to ask if she was _evil_. You should be able to tell having seen her in person, Brain-kun. Was Shalltear Bloodfallen wholly, integrally, _soulfully_ evil?"

If there was any hesitation in Brain's answer, it was only because of the way Platinum Dragon Lord had approached him and worded question. Having been direct witness to Shalltear herself, he understood exactly what Platinum Dragon Lord had meant, it was something ingrained deep in his soul. "Yes, she's evil."

Platinum Dragon Lord retraced his head and contemplated deeply. "I had suspected as much, but now there can be no more doubt about it, the powers that be are not an ally this time. The grit of the world shall be tested once more."

A solemn looked appeared on Rigrit and Inbern.

"And this time around seems particularly grim… Shalltear Bloodfallen can not be compared to the evil deities."

Brain looked around confused. _Centennial Aftershocks? The grit of the world? The evil deities?_ As he was begging to piece together what the exact relationship between the three others was, Rigrit spoke up.

"There is another matter that concerns us, Tsa, and is the main reason I asked Inberun and Brain-kun to come. It's about someone named Rhamnusia, I think there is a high possibility of him being a player."

Platinum Dragon Lord's eyes grew slightly wider at the mention of the word, moderately intrigued.

Inberun cupped her hand to her chin. "So you really do think that that bastard is a player."

Rigrit continued. "Inberun and Brain-kun have both fought with him, and from what they've told me, I'm almost certain of it."

"What makes you so sure?" Platinum Dragon Lord asked.

"Both of them mentioned Rhamnusia saying the word 'Science'."

Platinum Dragon Lord thought deeply on the seven letter word.

"'Science'..." Inberun seemed confused. "He did say that word, but what does it mean?"

Rigrit shrugged. "I don't really know. But I do recognize the word. It's something that only Leader used to say every once in a while. He liked to tack the phrase 'because science,' on anything he couldn't explain. Frankly, from the way he kept saying it, I doubt he even knew what the word actually meant."

Inberun paused in recollection. "Oh yeah…" Inberun said. "I do think I remember him saying that."

Platinum Dragon Lord interrupted. His voice had inexplicably become very heavy. " _He_ used that word too, didn't he? I remember him correcting Leader on the matter on one or two occasions."

Inberun's and Rigrit's expressions suddenly changed. " _He."_ It was as though a shadow had suddenly fallen upon their faces.

Even to Brain who was a complete stranger to their conversation, it was clear to him that ' _he'_ was a point of much guilt. He felt it wasn't right to ask about it, nor to ask about what exactly all this 'Leader' business was as well. If it was important, he would find out eventually.

"If that's true then," Inberun was now speaking very softly, "If both of them had used the word, then… Rhamnusia probably is a player."

Platinum Dragon Lord and Rigrit wordlessly agreed.

"So what _is_ a player exactly?" Brain felt he should at least ask that.

The three others exchanged several glances. Their eyes eventually fell to Platinum Dragon Lord.

"Players belong to very a special kind of race. So special that they are not born to this world, and appear from an unreachable place beyond." He said. "They're marked by the ability to grow in strength at remarkable speeds, and to indescribable heights. In that way, they have potential to be the world's mightiest allies or most dangerous foes."

"Wait so they just..." Brain scratched his head. "So they just appear out of nowhere?

"Well, nothing really comes from nowhere, Brain-kun." Platinum Dragon Lord replied. "But yes, in a sense. Are you familiar with the Eight Greed Kings?"

Brain nodded.

"Five hundred years ago, when I was a still a young dragon, they appeared from, as you say it, seemingly nowhere, and started conquesting the entirety of the known world. Because of them, my own race, the Dragon Lords, were reduced from hundreds to less than a mere dozen in the span of less than fourty years. The innate power that players wield is not to be taken lightly."

Brain gulped. It took true power to evoke the look in currently in that ancient dragon's eyes, who according to Brain, approached the same level as Seabs and Shalltear.

"...Okay, I understand more or less what these players are all about." Brain said.

"Good." Platinum Dragon Lord returned to his original position. "Then, Brain-kun. Was there anything else that this, 'Rhamnusia' said?"

The question caught him off guard a little since the conversation had seemed out of his purview. "Umm… I think climb-kun mentioned something about a uh… 'four fundamental forces of nature,' or something like that."

"Climb-kun?"

"He was with me when I fought against Rhamnusia, he's the one who Rhamnusia actually exchanged words with."

"I see." Platinum Dragon Lord turned to the other two, "'Four fundamental forces of nature'... What do you two make of that?"

The two women shook their heads. They had nothing.

Rigrit sighed, "Then lets try to figure out exactly what Rhamnusia is after. What do we know about his motivations?"

Inberun was quick to speak. "He's a maniacal sadist who's in cahoots with the Eight Fingers and Jaldabaoth. What's more to know about him?"

"In cahoots with the Eight Fingers?" Brain interrupted, "But when we saw him encountered him he had already killed Cocco Doll."

"Gods you're slow, shit-for Brain's." Inberun replied. "The Eight Fingers in-fight all the time. He also probably did that just to trick the us into thinking that our invasion would be unopposed. And we fucking bought it too."

The little vampire spit at the ground.

"Oh, I didn't hear about that..." Brain said.

"Yeah, well, that's how it is." Inberun grumbled.

Rigrit sighed. "So we really don't much then. In that case…" She turned to Platinum Dragon Lord. He gave her a wordless gesture of agreement and turned to the other two.

"How powerful is Rhamnusia?"

Brain paused, "How powerful?"

Inerbun crossed her arms. "It was hard to judge him accurately. He didn't fight like a magic caster or a warrior… or really any kind of class I'm familiar with exactly. He just fought like a coward; hiding in his poison fog, laying traps and waiting for us to make mistakes." She clicked her tongue. "And all that taunting! He doesn't shut up either!"

Brain was amazed. "Really? You engaged him for that long?"

Inberun scoffed, "Of course. Unlike you I'm not a moron."

"Can you really not find anything to insult about me other than my intelligence?" Brain replied.

Inberun was at a loss for words for a second. "Well- uh.."

"Whatever." Brain sighed. "You're probably right. I did drop the ball pretty hard against him."

Rigrit and Platinum Dragon Lord exchanged looks once more. "That doesn't exactly answer the question." Platinum Dragon Lord said. "How strong is Rhamnusia, just an estimate will do."

"Weren't you listening lizard-brain?" Inberun grumbled, "He fought like a coward. Never once did he go on the offensive and attempted to avoid every attack we threw at him. He never used a single martial art and all the spells he cast were more annoying than threatening, except for maybe the poison fog and his subordinate. He's no evil deity is what I'm getting at. I'll be ready for him next time."

Rigrit and Platinum Dragon Lord seemed to be greatly encouraged by that. They turned to brain expectantly.

Brain looked down. "I guess… I'm not sure. Like evil-eyes said. He wasn't normal. My fight was over fast but…" He thought deeply, recalling every tiny detail he could about the man he had met inside that little Eight-Finger's office. "But yes, he really didn't have the kind of presence you'd expect to feel from someone powerful. He was nothing at all like Shalltear Bloodfallen."

Then, a low tone permeated the room, emanating from the platform Platinum Dragon Lord was laying on. Brain looked around for its source before realizing that it was the dragon himself who was making it.

The dragon lord was humming a happy little tune.

"Then, Brain-kun, Inberun." The dragon lord said. "I would like to commission a quest for you two."

They could already figure what it was.

"It is imperative that Rigrit and I speak to Rhamnusia. It likely concerns the fate of the entire world. All I ask that you bring him to Eryuentiu. If you do so, I will be in your debt."

Rigrit smiled. "Tsa… you really do like giving quests don't you?"

The ancient dragon smiled warmly. "So much so that I sometimes disguise myself and adventure with the ones I give the quests to."

Inberun smiled too, though she didn't want to let anybody see it.

A fire raged behind her eyes. "I was going to get that bastard whether or not you asked anyway. You, shit-for-Brains, you coming or what?"

In truth, Brain did not share the same relationship as the three of them did to each other, and thus did not have nearly the same level of obligation to take the quest. However, he had journeyed south for exactly this kind of purpose. To restore his pride as a swordsman, and to restore meaning to his life. Of course he was accepting the quest.

If nothing else, he needed to get back at the demon that broke his sword.

He smirked, "What's this? Do I hear that all powerful vampire crying for help from just a little moron like me?"

"No." Inberun gave Brain a haughty glance. "I just thought it would be nice to have someone along to carry my things."

"In that case you'll have to find someone else to join us on the way." Brain rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Currently my muscles are being used to carry useful things."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood right now."

Brain rolled his eyes and the little vampire. he was beginning to grow a little more comfortable around her. He turned to Rigrit. "Are you not coming?"

"No," Rigrit shook her head. She turned to Platinum Dragon Lord. "I have my own research to do. And now having heard your testimonies, I have to go back and dig through all the documents that Leader left behind. Few though they be, it will still take a lot of time "

Platinum Dragon Lord addressed Brain and Inbern. "All that matters is that we speak with him. But keep in mind that as a player, he has almost assuredly grown to be stronger than when you last faced him. Be diplomatic and convince him to come, only use violence as a last resort."

"Then let us all make haste." Rigrit said. "Time is of the essence."

And so, they retreated back to Rigrit's hovel, and the vampire and the swordsman prepared for their journey back north.

* * *

 **I'm not sure how I feel writing out "Platinum Dragon Lord" as the dragon's name every time. It is perhaps a little too long for the reader to stomach. But just "Tsa" on the other hand would be a bit strange since the section is writen mainly from third person limited through Brain's eyes, and he doesn't see PDL as "Tsa."**

 **Of Course, I could just go ahead and abbreviate it to "PDL", but that doesn't quite sit right with me. Please tell me what you think if you have a suggestion on the matter.**

 **Also, I'm well aware of the fact that the 'shit-for-Brains' pun only works in English and doesn't make sense in the world in regards to Brain's canonical Japanese name. But it's just too good of an opportunity to pass up so I'm rolling with it!**

 **And thanks for reading!**


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